Vicious Circles
by RalynnFrost
Summary: Our favorite band of heroes have gone to work for the newly established "Department". Mystery, murder, and mayhem ensue as Sylar's redemption is tested and ancient secrets are uncovered. "Dream" volume 2 - Sylaire
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Heroes or any affiliated franchise. If I did, there would have been a fifth season.

This story is a continuation from 'Sweet Dreams' so everything is post season four.

* * *

**Vicious Circles**

**Chapter One**

Sylar walked into the darkened apartment and didn't even bother to turn the light on. He stumbled through the kitchen area and into the barren bedroom, crashing face first onto the air mattress.

"Tell me you want me."

He had barely closed his eyes and her voice was there to greet him. Night after night she came to him, refusing to let him rest in some of the most unique and inappropriate ways.

The alarm started bleeping.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sylar punched his imaginary pillow. He rolled over and stared at the water stain on the ceiling. His company phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and squinted at the flashing caller ID. It was his partner. He held it out for a moment, trying to decide whether to answer or roll back over and sleep.

He chose sleep.

The quick successive wraps at his door had other ideas though. Sylar groaned and rubbed his eyes before getting up. He shot the still bleeping alarm clock with a zap of blue electricity on his way out of the room.

"You're wearing the same suit twice?" The slender blonde pushed her way past Sylar and flipped on the kitchen light, setting a cup of coffee and a stack of papers on the rickety table. Sylar rolled his eyes and banged his forehead against the door frame a few times before slamming it shut.

"We're scheduled to be in briefing in thirty." She eyed him up and down with a distasteful look. "You should probably get ready. I want to be there early."

Charisma Jones was her name. Sylar had originally thought she was quite beautiful when they first met. And then she started speaking. Now he was just sure that her parents had made a joke when they named her. She was obnoxious, pushy, and overly literal. Most importantly, she hated his guts and the feeling was mutual.

He shuffled his way to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush. Naturally the toothpaste tube was empty, not even a smear to spare.

"You should really look into getting some furniture. One day you might actually get a non-work related guest," she called to him from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," he muttered to himself. He splashed some cold water on his face and watched it drip off in the cracked mirror.

"Tick tock, Agent Gray. Tick tock."

He couldn't help but think of what a great day it would be to slip off the wagon and cut her head open. To bad she didn't have any abilities other than her spectacular talent for getting on his nerves.

"You should consider shaving one of these days," she smirked at him as he walked back to where she was standing.

* * *

"No, I don't want to leave a message. I've already left I don't even know how many messages for him. You tell Peter that if he doesn't call me back today I'm going drive over there and shove my foot -"

The phone went dead.

"She just hung up on me. I can't believe she just hung up on me."

"You were getting a little pushy there, Claire Bear." Noah held the door open for his daughter and they walked into a small auditorium.

"These hours are ridiculous though. The first response team either needs to be expanded or be reserved for more serious cases. "

Claire's partner waved to them from the second row with a big grin.

"How does he always get here so early?" She flashed him a grin as they sat down.

"I grabbed you your favorite," he said handing over a mocha latte and jelly swirl to Claire.

"You remembered."

"And a standard black coffee for you, Mr. Bennett."

"Thank you, Chris. You're a good man."

Claire couldn't have asked for a better partner. Chris McKinley had arrived two weeks prior to replace her former partner after a work related injury. He may have been infallible as far the job was concerned. He was everything a girl should want, handsome, intelligent, funny and always happy to see her. And yet, even though he had shown quite the personal interest in her, there was no spark to be had. They worked well together but their chemistry could have been dead air space for Claire.

"Alright people, let's get down to business here," a gruff older man said stepping up to the podium. A picture appeared behind him on the projection screen.

"This is your target. His name is Donald Kingsly. He is a mentalist. He will get into your head and make you think things that are not true." The speaker stopped, looking up as two more agents came into the auditorium.

"So glad you could make it Jones and Gray. May we have your permission to continue?"

Charisma tried to hide her face in shame as she quickly found the first seat available in the front row. Sylar shuffled along behind, looking absolutely exhausted.

Claire felt a knot grow in her stomach as he sat down next to his partner in the seat directly in front of her.

"Now, as I was saying," the gruff man continued. "Kingsly is considered to be highly dangerous. He's wanted for over a dozen cases of investment fraud." The man stopped speaking again, this time looking down at the front row. Sylar was slumped over, asleep in his chair.

"Agent Gray, would you mind joining the land of the living long enough to find out why you're here?"

Claire watched as Charisma gave him a harsh elbow to the ribs. He sat straight up with a sharp snort that made a few other people in the audience giggle quietly.

After the briefing was over Sylar walked past again, rubbing at his temples while his partner nagged him the entire way to the door.

"Wow, I am so glad you're not like that," Chris said with a chuckle.

Claire caught her father looking at her disapprovingly. He was never blind to the sideways glances.

"I'm going to go suit up. I'll meet you at the van in ten," she flickered a smile and walked away before Noah could say anything.

In the ladies' locker room Claire saw Charisma buckling her boots and practically felt her eyes scrape the back of her head as she rolled them.

"You are so lucky that you got Agent McKinley for your partner. I've put in several requests for a new one but it's almost like they're ignoring me."

"Sylar's not so bad," Claire muttered as she slipped into her regulation body armor and uniform.

"I swear one of these days he's going to get me killed with his laziness. And don't even get me started on his attitude."

"He's not lazy. He's exhausted. While you're sitting pretty behind the scenes and filling out your precious paperwork, he's out there in the 'zero zone' working his ass off to catch the bad guys." Claire snapped. She had never been able to stand Jones, or the sound of her voice, or the way she talked to Sylar, or anything about her really. She thought she knew it all but she didn't have a clue.

"Whatever," the other agent said with a sneer as she slammed her locker shut and stormed out.

* * *

"I still say that it's ridiculous that I have to wear all this. Who needs standard issue body armor when you're a human shield? This stuff must weigh twenty pounds. I can barely move."

"Yes, Claire. I've heard this argument before but you're still not getting out of it. The safety standards aren't in place just for you. Think of Chris for a moment. What if you get shot and go down. Even if it's just for a minute that leaves him completely exposed." Noah said hopping into the driver's seat of the black van. A little twinge of guilt accompanied that thought.

"Hey there, Claire Bear," Chris greeted her, opening the door and giving her hand in.

He had picked up on her dad's nickname for her early on and started using it himself. She didn't seem to have the heart to tell him that it only sounded annoying when it didn't come from her father.

Sylar was already in position in the van. He smirked as she took her place next to him. When the door was closed it was practically pitch black inside. She could feel him sitting beside her and hear his steady breathing.

"If you're going to block me you should pick something more interesting than a constant recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance."

"Get out of my head, Sylar."

Charisma made a throaty noise in the darkness that caught somewhere between an indignant snort and a sigh of boredom. Claire could imagine what her face would like, rolling her eyes at them. A quick flash of anger towards the obnoxious woman's presence made her think of how good it might feel to wrap her fingers around that throat and give it a good squeeze.

"I like the way you think," Sylar said darkly with a chuckle.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Petrelli," the voices of faceless paper pushers chimed at him as he walked by. The last six months had gone by in such a blur that he hadn't even had time to learn half of his staff's names. Even when he had been pulling double and triple shifts at the hospital he had never been this busy.

"Good morning, Mr. Petrelli," his assistant greeted with a smile as she followed him into his office. "You're booked solid all morning with administrative meetings and a press docket before lunch. Here are your messages," she said laying a stack of yellow slips on his desk as thick as a small phone book. "And sir, I really must insist that you take a few minutes to call Ms. Bennett back. She's getting a bit… vulgar."

"I already know what she wants," Peter said with a sigh as he examined the impossible mountain of paper work that covered every inch of his desk.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything I can get you?"

She was really a great assistant. Always punctual, efficient in her duties and ready for his every beck and call.

"What's your name?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Your name. What is it?"

"Caroline, sir." Peter slouched into his chair and put a hand on his chin, subconsciously supporting a heavy mind.

"Caroline, do you like your job here?"

"Yes, sir. I do very much. I know my part in these operations is small, but I feel like I'm doing my part to make a difference."

Peter sighed heavily. He knew that the work they were doing was important and that his assistant was absolutely right. They were making a great difference in the world. But all of the politics and bureaucracy that were necessary for it paled in comparison to the feeling he used to get being out there in world, physically saving lives and helping people.

"Thank you-," he was already stumbling for her name.

"Caroline."

"Yes, thank you, Caroline." The assistant hesitated for a moment and then decided that that must have been here queue to leave. As she exited the office her presence was immediately replaced with the mail cart.

"Package for you, Mr. Petrelli. Looks like something special today."

Peter mindlessly signed for the box and set it down on top of a rather unbalanced stack of papers. He thumbed through his stack of messages looking for the one that belonged to his niece figuring that he should return her call before his day started. He dialed the number to the company cell phone and let it ring as he opened the box. Inside was a musical snow globe with an inscription on it reading:

_The son may rise but it also fades. Give peace to the war of the grateful dead._

"You've reached Claire Bennett's personal line. I am currently unavailable so please leave your name, number and message."

"Claire, we need to talk," Peter said examining the decoration, noting how the tiny figures inside looked an awful lot like himself lying ill on a bed with Claire at his side.

* * *

"Alright, Claire, you're taking point on this," Noah instructed as he drove the black van through the parking garage of their target's work place.

"And no guns," he said fervently as Charisma selected a P-83 from their arsenal. "You don't want to use anything potentially lethal when initially dealing with a mentalist like this guy."

"So we're hanging back again, Mr. B.?" Chris asked, finally losing a touch of his smile.

"Just until Claire and Sylar get the area secured."

Chris opened the door of the black van and Claire jumped out. Sylar followed close behind her, watching the way her hair bounced before she pulled her helmet on.

The regulation armor they were required to wear in the field made them look like some kind of black ops shock trooper. Which, maybe they were occasionally. The full body suit was bullet proof, fire resistant, radiation protective and had long lines of rubber stripping with metal wires running through it that acted as a grounding device should they face someone with the ability to manipulate electricity. The heavy insulation provided regulation for body temperature as well as offering sufficient padding around the trauma plates that would protect against hits of super strength. It even came equipped with a full range of sensors that constantly fed detailed information about their vitals back to the R&D department so that the effects of stress and combat could be studied.

And yet, they couldn't design a suit that didn't chafe where it mattered.

"How come you never let me call you Claire Bear?"

"Shut up, Sylar."

As the elevator closed behind him, Sylar took his off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets so that he could push the button for the floor they needed.

"Better not let your partner see you doing that. It's against regulation," Claire's mocking voice rang through the helmet's microphone system.

"Yeah, well they should have looked into the functionality of this stuff a little more before telling me to wear it. I don't appreciate shocking myself." Claire laughed a little remembering the first time he had tried to use his blue lightning ability with the gloves on.

"I think they probably did that on purpose. It was designed against you."

Sylar smirked thinking about the weeks they had spent months ago gathering data about all of his abilities. It had been one of the few fun experiments he had gotten to participate in. Spending hours inside a clean room being encouraged to torment people had certainly brought him pleasure.

The elevator opened and they stepped out onto a brightly lit office floor. People stared wide eyed as they marched past the rows of cubicles.

"Department of Safety and Regulation for Enhanced Citizens, ma'am," Claire said clumsily, flashing her badge at the secretary in front of the target's office. "We need to speak with Mr. Kingsly about some fraud charges."

"I wouldn't push that if I were you," Sylar said reading the woman's mind.

_Silent alarm._ Claire thought. He nodded in confirmation.

_Always a little more fun when they've thought this through._

Sylar walked over to the set of double doors and touched a handle.

"He's in there alright. With a pastrami on rye."

Claire giggled a little. She always got a kick out of that power. She opened the door and walked into the room, ready for any attack that might be waiting.

* * *

Suresh walked over to his desk with a steaming cup of tea and glanced again at the readings he was getting across his computer screen. He often felt like he had gotten to know the first response team better than they knew themselves. With one look he could tell when they arrived on location, if any difficulties had occurred, or even if they sneezed inside the helmet. The blood samples he had worked with were precious as well but there was something to be said about the information feeds he got from their suits' sensors.

He had particularly become fascinated with the reactions that were caused by Sylar and Claire working together. You would never be able to tell that anything was amiss from just watching them alone, but when they went into action together they formed a fluctuating orchestra of adrenaline rushes, erratic heart beats and tense nerves across his charts.

Lately though he was becoming concerned with the information they provided. The effects of sleep deprivation and stress from their long hours had started to take a toll. They were virtually immortal and unable to become sick but they were not spared certain physical side effects.

"Mohinder, are you seeing this?" The lab tech spoke on another screen, sending a detailed scan of a subject's brain activity.

"Yes, I see it. Notice the levels of serotonin and histamine. It's almost like he's sleeping… Pull up a scan of Claire's and compare them."

"Look at the activity both in prefrontal cortex and the amygdala," the lab tech spoke almost in awe.

"That can't be good," Suresh said shaking his head in worry.

* * *

"Mr. Kingsly we're from the D.S.R.E.C. We need to talk to you… Mr. Kingsly?"

Claire looked around the empty room. There was no Kingsly waiting for her. There wasn't much of anything. There wasn't any furniture and the walls were blank. A thin layer of dust on the floor suggested to her that no one had even come into this room for at least a few weeks.

"Sylar, I thought you said," she started to say as she turned around to look for him. There was also no Sylar to be found. Or a door to exit through for that matter. Her mind instantly flashed to the last time something like this had happened.

Six months ago she and Sylar had lived through an alternate reality together. A young coma patient named Brandon Miller had nearly pulled the fabric of space and time apart around New York. He had made Sylar and Claire do and say terrible things each other. He had made them see things that weren't real and played with their heads through it. The duo had managed to successfully destroy the enemy, effectively reversing all that he had done and wiping the memories of those that he had infected with this insanity. But Claire, thinking that it must have been the new ability Sylar had given her, was the only one able to remember it all. Occasionally though she wondered if he knew something about the experience and just refused to admit it.

Claire took off her helmet and kicked at air in frustration.

"Crap."

* * *

"Hey there, Suresh. How's it going?" Noah said with a smile as Mohinder's face appeared on the screen of his lap top.

"We're getting some troubling readings here, Noah. Have Sylar or Claire reported in the last few minutes?"

"Hold on a second. I'll radio in to Claire and see what's happening." Noah picked up his head set.

"Claire? Can you read me?" Static was his only response.

"Sylar, can you hear me?" Again, nothing.

"Is he hurting her?" Noah addressed Mohinder again, anger flushing his cheeks at the thought. Regardless of how much Peter and Claire had both protested that he was redeemed somehow and could work safely along side them for the greater good, Noah had never been able to bring himself to trust Sylar. It was hard enough sending his daughter out into the field with him in the first place. If he ever hurt her…

"No. We can confirm that they're both… I'm not sure what the right word is. They're both under the effects of _something_ though. My information says that they were being sent to track down a mentalist."

"Yeah, Kingsly. Swindled a bunch of people out of their investment accounts on the stock market."

"That must be what's going on then. He must have been able to push thoughts onto both of them," Mohinder paused seeing the worried look in Noah's eyes. "They're not being physically harmed. But we can see that they've been separated and they're afraid."

"Jones, McKinley, grab your stun guns. We're going in after them," he barked.

* * *

Sylar found himself in an empty room, alone.

"Claire?" He called into his helmet microphone. Static. He took off the head gear and paced around the room a few times before punching a wall. He listened intently for a moment and could hear someone breathing nearby.

"I know you're there," his voice echoed back to him. A floor board creaked near the single window facing the street. He threw his helmet in the direction of the sound. It bounced off the window sill and he could hear someone moving away.

"What did you do with her?" He called out into the blank space.

The breathing was closer now, moving behind him. Sylar was careful not to move or look around. He silently calculated where the target would be. A clicking sound, like a gun being cocked came from where the door should have been. In one swift movement he whirled around and sent a bolt of crackling electricity in the direction of the sound.

* * *

"They've both taken off their helmets. We're not receiving any more transmissions for brain activity but their vitals are still strong," Mohinder spoke over the headset.

"Alright, thanks Suresh. We'll stay in contact until we get Claire out."

"You mean both Claire and Sylar?"

Noah grunted in response to that and checked the clip in his pistol.

"What happened to not using anything lethal against a mentalist?" Charisma chided.

"Our two top agents have been incapacitated and the target has been cited as being extremely dangerous. Our goal is take him alive but my first priority is to get my daughter back."

The elevator opened and they stepped out onto the office floor. People were looking nervously at the agents as they walked by, their weapons drawn. They completely ignored the opposition of the secretary as Noah cocked his pistol and kicked open the door.

The gun discharged and Charisma let out a high pitched yelp as he fell to the floor and seized under the electrical charge from Sylar's hands. She panicked and dropped a charge from her stun gun into the dark man's chest. His armor protected him from the voltage and he pulled out the prongs and smacked her into the ceiling with his mind. Chris also fired his charge having almost as much success.

With both ability driven agents thoroughly confused and the others taken out of action Kingsly reappeared as he dashed out of the room and hit the elevator.

"Noah, something just happened. Sylar's exhibiting extreme signs of stress. Do not engage him! Noah, can you hear me?" Suresh's voice buzzed from where the headset lay a few feet away.

Noah, coming back to his senses looked up at Sylar holding the other two choking agents against the ceiling. His face had grown hard and his eyes were dead the way they had been before when the killer in him took over. A twisted sneer contorted his mouth.

"Where's Claire?" Noah shouted, springing to his feet and pointing his pistol at his nemesis's head.

Sylar seemed to snap out of it after hearing her name. He looked back into the room and dropped Jones and McKinley without the courtesy of breaking their fall. They both gasped for air and groaned as they rolled over. Claire still hadn't reappeared.

Sylar muttered profanities as he ran to the window. Looking down he could see Kingsly running across the street below.

"Sylar!" Noah yelled.

Sylar wasn't listening. He hurled himself out the window and plummeted to the walkway below, floating himself just a few feet before impact so that he landed in a crouched position. Noah ran to the window and watched as the man ran down his target and tackled him.

A few minutes later he reappeared in the elevator with a cuffed Kingsly. All of the agents had their weapons drawn on the man.

"Remember what I said. You bring her back and I won't shove your still beating heart down your throat."

Kingsly was clearly terrified. Something that certainly didn't hurt Noah's feelings. He walked back into the office and everything materialized again. Claire was sitting up against a wall fidgeting with a strand of hair.

Noah ran to her and picked her up in a big bear hug. Sylar stood by quietly, watching as Chris joined in on making sure she was okay. Charisma started to open her mouth and the look he gave her made her instantly close it again.

* * *

"Mr. Kingsly, you've been charged with twelve counts of fraud and two counts of assaulting a federal agent. We've already uncovered the evidence from your office and taken statements-"

_I wonder if I can just walk out of here. I'll make them all think I'm still here talking to this stooge and just walk out. Maybe skip over the border…_

"First things first," Matt leaned back in his chair and crossed him arms, "I am not a stooge. As far as you just 'walking out of here', that's not going to happen either. This is a secured facility filled with personnel trained to deal with people like you."

_Damn mind readers._

Matt fought a smirk. They always thought that once they figured out who they were in the interrogation room with. "Now, you're going to give me a nice neat confession for the record so that I can go home and enjoy the evening with my wife and son."

Parkman had a bit of a skip to his step as he walked out of the interrogation room with a signed confession just in time to get home for dinner. Sylar was standing outside watching through the one-way glass.

_Not bad, Matt. You almost look like a real cop in there._

_Ha ha. You're so funny._

Matt still couldn't honestly tell himself that he liked Sylar. He couldn't even tell himself that he could begin to. They had spent to long a time sharing the same mind once. Despite that, they managed to get along in the interest of work.

_So, I hear you attacked Noah and your partner today…_

_They shot me first._

Charisma Jones was an outstandingly beautiful blonde with the longest of legs. To bad she always had to open that mouth of hers. She began walking by and Matt's mind wondered for just a split second.

_I saw that, Parkman. You dirty dog, you._

_I'm beginning to understand why people find mind reader's so intrusive._

_Mm, there's Gray. He looked so good when he chased that guy down today. And look at that shirt on him… I wonder if he's noticed my legs in this skirt yet…._

Matt and Sylar just stared at each other with incredulous looks as the woman strolled by.

_Did she just…?_

_Yeah. Yeah she did, man. I feel so sorry for you._

Matt let the smirk slip.

_Getting home to Janice now. Have fun with that._

* * *

Sylar popped the door open with his telekinesis as one hand was holding a bag of take out Tai food and the other was full with his dry cleaning. He tripped over something in the dark kitchen area and let a few curses slip. The light switched on and he laid his things on the excuse for a table. Pulling the loose paper work out of his mouth and setting it aside, he picked up the brown box that had been left just inside the door.

Inside the box was a musical snow globe. It had an inscription reading:

_Potentials unmet, connections to keep. You have many miles to go before you sleep._

Sylar closely scrutinized the miniature figure of himself inside the globe. He was knelt over, holding another model that looked suspiciously like Claire with a red line across her forehead.

He stepped just outside his apartment door and looked both ways down the hall hoping to find evidence of who had delivered the mysterious parcel.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

I was going to draw this one out a bit in an attempt to get some more reviews but since I got such nice messages about it, I thought it wouldn't hurt to let the next installment out a few days early. Here's to hoping you enjoy the next puzzle piece!

And yes, I have big plans for Mr. McKinley as well as Ms. Jones...

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The report before him was disturbing enough without all of the possible implications that it came with. He had just started to think that maybe the old killer was officially retired. He had been dormant for so long. And yet, here was the proof before him in grotesque technicolor photos.

"When did these murders occur?"

"Reports on the first one just came in last night but with the coroner's estimated time of death it looks like they started about two weeks ago."

"How many in total?"

"Six it looks like. We had a heck of a time trying to sort out all of the body parts. The only pieces remotely intact were the skulls and, well… You can see what we're dealing with here."

Yes, Noah could see. It was all to obvious. Maybe to obvious indeed.

"They were all found buried in a shallow grave at a cemetery on the city limits. Kind of like he was trying to hide it."

"That makes sense. What were their abilities?"

"Emanuel "Speedy" Gonzales was a speedster. One of the fastest we've ever recorded. Maria Valente was a shape shifter. Tyler Grayson had stealth… The others we didn't have documented. Should we bring him in?"

"No. No. Pretend like there's nothing going on for right now. I don't want to spook this guy. The fact that he's extremely dangerous goes without saying and I don't want any of our people getting themselves killed. If he is killing again-"

"_If_ he's killing again? Noah, what more proof do you need? It's got to be him."

"Look," the words came out a little more sharply than Bennett had intended, "I'm the closest thing we have to an expert on him and if anyone is going to take him down, I'll be the one to do it. Trust me. I've been the shadow over his shoulder since the beginning."

"Whatever you say, Noah. Whatever you say."

* * *

"Good, Sylar. Again please."

Sylar was hooked up to thin white sensory cables that measured the electrical impulses of his nervous system as he was asked to repeatedly respond to mock up scenarios of being attacked. The clicking sound of a gun replayed again and times were recorded as Sylar turned and zapped a target placed approximately twelve feet away.

"One more time, please," Suresh asked in his most polite tone through the observation booth's sound system. Once again the dark man reacted accordingly.

"Thank you. That will do for now, Sylar."

Two lab technicians came in to disconnect the patient from his cables. Mohinder watched closely as Sylar rolled his head around a few times and stretched like he was attempting to loosen himself up even though he had just done a little over an hour's worth of activity. The scientist greeted his favorite lab rat with a steaming hot cup of tea as he exited the room, rubbing his neck.

"Your reaction time is getting slower and your accuracy has slipped by three centimeters, Sylar. Is there something going on that I should know about?"

"Nope." The man slipped a pair on jeans on over the white athletic shorts he wore for the testing and took a seat on the bench along the wall so that he could put his shoes back on.

"Nothing in your personal life, maybe?"

"Are you getting at something any time soon, Mohinder?"

Suresh mentally documented the darkening circles beneath Sylar's eyes and the subtle shaking of his hands. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week and his concentration on any one object was limited.

"No, I'm not getting at anything. I need to you tell me what was going through your mind when you attacked Mr. Bennett and your partner."

Sylar sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall staring off into space as he thought about what to say.

"Kingsly had trapped me in a blank room all alone. I thought I could hear him hiding behind me and when I heard the click I reacted to defend myself. I didn't hurt anyone. I don't know why they're making such a big deal out of this."

"You know exactly why, Sylar. Even though you've done a lot for this company, you're still…"

"Me?" Sylar chuckled just a bit. Mohinder let a smile creep out before another serious thought crossed his mind.

"Were you aware of Claire's presence in the room?"

"No. I didn't know what happened to her."

Suresh nodded, rubbing his chin as he analyzed the information with what he had seen on his charts during the events the day before.

"What are your sleep patterns like these days?"

"Sleep," Sylar scoffed. "If I ever get time to sleep, I'll let you know."

"Yes, your team's working hours are quite difficult. If you need some time off to recuperate I'm sure we can get that arranged."

"No." The way he looked up at Suresh from his position was enough to make the doctor skip a heart beat.

"I'm sorry, Mohinder. I didn't mean to snap like that. I guess it is starting to get to me." Sylar rubbed at this temples for a moment and yawned.

"When you do get to sleep are you dreaming?"

Sylar paused for a moment, hesitating to give a straight answer.

"Yes."

"About Claire?"

He sunk his head for a moment before standing and pulling on his jacket. "Sorry, Mohinder but I just don't have time for this right now."

Suresh found a childish joy in making his old enemy uncomfortable that way, but in all fairness the information was of interest to science. He watched as Sylar left the lab area. The man that had just been before him was a completely different creature than the one he had met those few years ago. Better, but just as deadly, possibly even more so. Mohinder was sure he knew the reason why.

* * *

"Mr. Petrelli, your niece is here to see you now," his assistant spoke over the phone.

Peter didn't even bother to tell the woman to send Claire in. He jumped up from his desk and met her at the door himself. After a loving hug he became anxious to get down to business.

"How's Emma?" Claire asked taking a seat in front of his desk, her eyes bulging just a touch at the sight of how much paperwork he managed to squeeze onto the wooden surface.

"She's, uh… She's doing great. Having a lot of fun finishing up her med school and training," he automatically pulled a picture frame of the two of them together out from under a stack of folders.

"You miss her, huh." Claire watched as her uncle delicately touched the frame, lost in thought for a moment.

"Yeah, I really do," a sideways smile opened as Peter thought about his siren. "Um, I'm not really sure how to ask about this but-"

"I'm sorry. I'm filling up your voicemail again aren't I? It's just that my team is working so much overtime… But that's not what you meant, was it?" Claire became worried as Peter's eyebrows furrowed and a little crease appeared in his forehead.

"No, it wasn't. But your right. You guys do need a break."

"It looks like you could use one yourself."

They both gave a strange smile as they simultaneously looked over his desk again. They had both been out of touch to much lately. Sometimes it felt like the only reason they talked at all anymore was work related and neither of them was very content with that.

"Actually I wanted to ask if you knew anything about this?" Peter handed his niece the snow globe he had gotten in the mail the day before. Recognition flashed in her eyes and for a second he thought that maybe it had been a gift from her.

Claire started digging through her purse and produced a similar musical snow globe. The inscription on hers read:

_Dreams lost and stolen away. It's a heavy price the innocent must pay._

Inside was a tiny figurine of Claire pointing a gun at what looked to be a miniature Noah.

"I found it yesterday. It was in a box on my desk when I came back from my assignment."

"I got mine yesterday too. Do you have any idea at all who sent them?"

Claire shook her head no.

They both looked bewildered with the shiny globes in hand.

* * *

"Tick tock, Agent Gray. Tick tock!" Charisma yelled from the elevator door.

_I'm going to kill her. One of these days I swear I am going to kill her._

Sylar ran to reach the elevator before the door closed. Inside he finished buckling his boots and fastening the straps to his leg armor. Warm hands moved over his back and he stood up in abrupt shock.

"Your chest piece has to be secured. It's regulation," his partner chided at him as she continued to help him with his armor. She fasted the black buckles all the way up his chest and pulled him downward to her level so that she could get the last snapping bit on his collar.

Sylar's mind went in a hundred different directions at once as he stared into her piercing blue eyes only inches away from his own.

The elevator hit their destination at the top floor and they both ran out to meet the helicopter waiting for them. Chris and Claire were already in position as he stepped in.

"Alright, you have multiple targets today. We've been asked to assist in defusing a bank robbery."

"What specials are we looking, at Mr. B.?" Chris shouted into his microphone over the wind as they flew.

"No specials in this one. Just some standard civilians breaking the law."

"Isn't this the job of the police department?" Claire piped up.

"They have jurisdiction, yes. But they've specifically requested us for this one. The shooters have an unknown number of hostages and they've already killed at least two."

The helicopter landed in an open space in the blocked off street. Dozens of police vehicles surrounded the bank and officers milled around the area. They had worked together so much over the last few months that he didn't even need to stop to talk strategy with Claire. They knew what to do and how to do it. The partners followed behind as they marched up to the doors of the institution.

"Sylar, there's something I need to ask you about," Claire started over the microphone as she drew up her shield and walked through the door.

"No, Claire. I'm not taking you to the junior prom so stop asking."

"Oh, great they sent the freaks after us!" One of the gunman exclaimed as he grabbed a hostage and held his pistol to her head in front of him.

"Did you send me a creepy little snow globe?"

Sylar paused to mentally yank the man's gun from his hand and break it into pieces in the air. "A snow globe?" Dread crept its way into his system. "Did it have a figure of you with your head cut open inside?"

"No, it was… What do you mean, 'my head cut open'?"

"Can we save the chit chat for later maybe? We are in the middle of an armed robbery here," Charisma pitched.

Sylar arched a bolt of lightning over the hostage's head and knocked her attacker to the floor.

"I got one of the globes too."

"Billy!" Two more gunman took shelter behind pillars and started firing rounds. Chris grabbed Charisma and ducked behind another pillar, squeezing off a few shots in the process.

Claire ran head first into the robber one the left, jumping and landing a charged up punch directly to his face, knocking him to the ground with a resounding crack. Sylar telekinetically forced the masked man on the right to pistol whip himself. He yanked the gun away and melted it in his hands, throwing the left over goo onto the floor. With a solid shock of electricity the gunman hit the floor, twitching.

A gun shot rang through the air behind them. Sylar turned and watched as a bullet hovered in front of him, a rippling force field holding the projectile at bay. He pulled his helmet off to look around himself. Claire had enveloped him in her shield.

She pulled off her helmet as well, looking in wide eyed awe at what she had done.

Another shot sounded as they were distracted, looking at one another with a thousand unspoken questions. The bullet grazed Claire's cheek leaving a single drop of blood as the wound immediately healed.

"You'll never take me a live, freaks!"

One last ringing blast filled the air and the final robber fell to the ground. Chris stepped out from behind the protective pillar with his firearm still pointed. The silence was deafening for a moment.

* * *

Sylar led the way into his office, flipping on the light without touching it. Claire followed quickly behind, clutching the mysterious snow globe.

Her mind was cluttered with random thoughts about the day. She had learned how to use her force field offensively but had never been able to shield another person with it before. She started to think about how it could have been connected to him specifically because of the past events that gave her the ability in the first place.

Those thoughts were quickly pushed away though, always being conscious of the somewhat reformed murderer's telepathic capabilities. Claire could never be sure exactly how much he remembered about those times. She just knew that giving him any clues to the more scandalous moments would only encourage him.

Claire had to quickly turn her thoughts around again as Sylar stripped off the protective long sleeve shirt they wore under their chest armor. He stood with his back turned to her, rooting through the shelf behind his desk in nothing but a form fitting white tank. She was desperate not to think about how the way his muscles moved could be attractive.

"Does yours work?"

"What?" She stammered, snapping back to the task at hand.

"Your snow globe. Does the musical mechanism work?" He looked at her with an intensity that she could easily recognized. The wheels in his brain were turning with mechanical ideas.

"I didn't try," she mumbled, turning the small gold colored key on the side. There was a clinking sound on the inside and a faint metallic catching like a gear was stuck. Sylar's hand extended for the object and she quickly handed it over being careful not to touch any part of him.

He took the snow globe and rolled it over in his hands a few times causing the white glitter to swirl around the miniature figures. He shook it, and held it up to his ear listening for any clues.

"My mother had a thing for these," he noted absent mindedly.

"Yeah, I know."

He looked at her confused for a second and she could tell by the way he subtly turned his face that he was trying to read her mind.

"Claire," a brief knock on the open door alerted them to Chris's presence. She watched with an inexplicable pang of guilt as her partner eyed Sylar and his gaze trailed its way to the tattoo of her on the dark man's arm.

"I can come back it's no big deal."

A loud crash filled the small office. Claire looked back to see Sylar's hand healing from breaking the globe's glass over the corner of his desk. He pulled the figurines out and tossed them to her as he handled the object.

"Wow, that's not creepy or anything," Chris stated with a shudder as he looked at the object before she shoved it into her pocket.

"I was just going to head over to the training facility to cool down before heading home tonight. I wanted to know if you would like to come along. We could get some sparring in," Chris added with his wide grin.

An audible snort came from Sylar's direction.

"Yeah sure. Sounds great." Claire turned to tell Sylar that they could talk more tomorrow when he pulled something out from the gears and cogs of the music piece. A piece that didn't belong. He looked at her with dark eyes as he held up a key.

* * *

"The cleaning crew found him like this, sir. We already reviewed the security tapes and dusted for prints, the whole nine yards, but we couldn't find anything that might indicate who was here."

_The killer had stealth… _He thought to himself_._

Noah walked through the hallway that led to the prison cells of level two. He stepped carefully over broken glass and around blood spatters on the floor. Investigators were moving around the scene of the crime futilely searching for evidence and taking pictures. Delicate wires had been pulled from the door lock requiring a security card for clearance. The edges around it were slightly darkened like a momentary electrical surge had burnt the inside.

The window to the victim's cell had been busted outward suggesting that a struggle had taken place inside the cell, but the only DNA traces belonged to the dead man. His body was slumped over against a wall, saturated in sticky red. There was a shocked look on his face.

It was Donald Kingsly with the top part of his skull missing.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, so my resolve to postpone updating is crumbling already. I feel like a giddy kid at Christmas time who can't wait to share the presents. This is more of a relationship driven chapter than anything so nothing overly exciting happens, but it builds towards the next one.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Claire narrowed her eyes in concentration. Her brows furrowed and a bead of sweat strained its way down her temple. The shield appeared in front her, rippling like water in the light. She worked to point it at the little white tea cup on its stand.

Energy poured from her into the force field, willing its way towards the target. The cup shuddered for a second before being lifted a few inches into the air. When her train of thought derailed though, the tea cup dropped back down to the stand and tilted on its side before falling off the edge and shattering on the floor.

Mohinder appeared to help her pick up the pieces, brushing off her apologies as they gathered each splinter.

"That was good, Claire. But I have to ask what you're thinking about. It doesn't seem to be about the cup."

There were a hundred and one things on her mind and about ninety nine of them she didn't feel like sharing. She thought about the mysterious snow globes that had been popping up and what the key hidden inside hers might belong to or mean. She thought about the night before in Sylar's office and how hard she had to fight to keep her brain restricted around him for her own privacy. And the dreams. Oh, the dreams. How they came to her every night in sickening detail and how worried she was that she had grown fond of it all. And then there was Chris.

They had gone to blow off some steam in the training and exercise area after leaving Sylar. Chris had needed something to take his mind off of having to shoot the gunman at the bank that day. It was the first time he had had to kill anyone and even though it was justified in the eyes of the law, he had taken it pretty hard. Claire was just in need of some stress relief in general.

The partners had jogged quietly side by side for a while and then sparred for a bit. She had to laugh when he was so timid about hitting her. Sylar knew better than to take it easy on her so she had gotten used to a challenge. She immediately started hitting Chris like she would have against her usual opponent and nearly had a hysterical fit when he couldn't bring himself to strike back.

All of that was fine though. It was the talking that started it all.

"So, you and Sylar huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I have to assume that you guys must have a thing… Or at least you did before or something."

"What? No!" she snorted.

It wasn't a lie. Nothing from that alternate reality had been real. She had accepted that. She was glad for that. But there was something that turned in stomach when she thought about it.

"Sorry. It's just that I saw that tattoo earlier and… Well, some conclusions were drawn I guess. I've never met a guy before that would have gotten a girl's face on his arm like that unless there was something serious going on."

"It's a long story," Claire sighed, hiding her eyes with a hand and internally wishing the blush would quickly fade from her cheeks.

"Would it be the kind of long story that you could tell me over dinner?"

Chris's smile was hard to resist. Even though Claire hadn't felt any real kind of attraction to her partner he was fun to be around. He was easy to talk to as well. Maybe to easy to talk to. She had been afraid of spilling secrets that weren't hers to dish out really.

"I don't know, Mohinder. I've got a lot of personal stuff going on right now."

"If you ever need anyone to talk to, Claire…"

"Thank you," she said with some sincerity even though she didn't have any plans to take him up on the offer.

Suresh had nearly gotten through the door of the observation room in his research and development lab when he turned back. He had that look on his face that Claire was beginning to know quite well. It was the look he got when he had stumbled across something that required questions to be answered.

"Claire, when would you say this new ability of yours started to manifest?"

"Um, about six months ago. Give or take. Why do you ask?"

"As you know a part of our job down here is to study your abilities," he put his hand on his chin, scratching slightly at the stubble there. "I've gone over your DNA extensively and I've seen the marker for your regenerative properties but never anything to indicate another ability. I'm very curious to learn where you picked up such a fascinating new power."

Claire froze, unsure of what to say. Should she lie? Should she tell the truth? She settled for the cop out.

"You don't want to know, Mohinder. Trust me." She left as quickly as possible afterward to avoid anymore prying questions on the subject.

* * *

"Tick tock, Agent Grey. Tick tock," Charisma called to him as he pulled on his gloves.

She had decided, for whatever reason that she wanted to have some sparring practice with him. He had noticed before that she was pretty competitive with the other set of partners and surmised that this was some kind of stunt to show how well they worked together. Which they really didn't. The only person he had ever fought with before, that wasn't during a life or death situation at least, was now sitting on the benches with her partner. They were busy talking and as usual she was busy ignoring him as much as possible.

Sylar was having doubts about how well this would turn out and was almost ready to call the whole thing off when Charisma just walked up to him and punched him in the nose. The initial sting wore off pretty quickly as the wound healed, but his surprise at her attack lasted for well over a minute. She laughed at the look on his face and his hesitation to defend himself.

They dropped into their boxing stances and circled one another, looking for holes in the other's defense and weaknesses that could be exploited. Sylar went for a standard jab only to be met with a low hard right to the ribs. She was serious about this. And she wasn't afraid in the least. This peaked his interest.

He decided he wouldn't use his powers against her, but he would give her a cross hook to the jaw and see what happened next. She was rocked for a split second and dove right back into the game. The tall blonde feigned a left to his face and undercut to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. She seized that opportunity to make a meeting between his face and her right knee before swinging a pointy elbow over the top of his head.

Claire and Chris were both watching intently now but he almost didn't care.

Sylar saw a momentary opening in her block and put out a square hit to her chin. She fired back with quick successive jabs to his ribs and brought another knee into the scenario with a lightning fast elbow to the spine. He fell forward and winced in pain. It was a good pain though. Upon reflection of that thought he decided that maybe he had always been a little masochistic.

A high kick slammed into his chest and sent him sprawling with a wicked grin.

The fight continued for several more minutes this way. Neither party held anything back.

Finally their sparring match devolved into an awkward wrestling round. They were both to tired to keep throwing punches so they just clung to one another, shoving back and forth and making a few taps to the ribs here and there until they fell over into a sweaty heap.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" He gasped for air.

"I went through a fight club phase when I was younger," she laughed.

Charisma rolled over so that she was on top of him. The way sweat dripped down the rock hard stomach that was being exposed between her tight athletic shorts and the sports bra she was wearing made his eyes wonder without concern. Her heavy breathing and the way she was straddling him also made his mind drift in primitive ways.

A lock of hair had gone rogue during their fight and now hung over his face. He reached up and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled.

His partner was still obnoxious and pushy, but now he knew that they could have a good time together in this aspect at least. They had both fully enjoyed taking their frustrations out on one another.

Sylar wrapped a leg round hers and flipped so that he was on top. She made for another jab at him but he caught her hands and slammed them into the floor above her head. They were nose to nose with her piercing blue eyes stabbing into his. Her breath hit his neck and sent a shiver down his spine.

"Get a room!" Chris yelled from across the training floor, slapping his knee with delight.

Sylar looked over to see Claire standing motionless, her face unreadable. He quickly got up from his compromising position and stared intently back at her. She grabbed her bag and bolted for the door with Chris only paces behind.

A part of him wanted to chase after her. A larger part of him said that it didn't matter.

* * *

Chris looked at her with serious concern as she checked her phone for the third time that minute.

"So, are you waiting on something important or are you just avoiding me?"

"What?" Claire suddenly realized that he had been speaking to her.

"I was just asking you what kind of movie you would like to see tonight. You're um… I don't even think distracted is the word," he said with a chuckle.

"Sorry. I've just been waiting for an assignment to come in. It's been quiet all day and I just need something to do."

"Didn't you hear? We've got the day off. I guess Doctor Suresh pulled some psycho-science stuff and got the secondary team to fill in for us so we could catch a break."

Claire had been begging for a day off for months. It figured that she would finally get what she wanted when she least needed it.

"There's a new action movie out that I've been wanting to see. And we could grab dinner at the Chinese place down the block," she said. making a weak attempt to gather some enthusiasm.

"Great," he smiled. "I've just got a few reports and stuff that I need to get in and then I'm good to go whenever you are."

"Yeah, that sounds good. There's this one little thing that I need to do and then I'll give you a call."

One little thing. One little thing like meeting up with her uncle and Sylar at a bus depot to discover what the meaning behind their snow globes could be.

* * *

She walked over to a section of storage lockers where the guys were waiting.

Peter greeted her with a hug and they all held their keys out. Three consecutive keys for three consecutive lockers.

Sylar had put a hand on each of them trying to see the history behind them, hoping to find out who was behind this or what they might find inside the units but there was nothing.

"I'll go first," he said darkly, stepping up to the locker and opening it. Inside was an unmarked post card with a picture of a watch shop on it. He read the message on the back aloud.

_Secrets to uncover, histories to unhide. Your hunger will not be denied._

Peter followed suit and uncovered a similar gift. His post card pictured the political office that his brother Nathan had once used.

_Willing to fight, willing to die. Is there time to uncover the lie?_

Claire retrieved her card and studied the picture of a high school on the front before reading the clue on the back.

_The die has been cast in this wicked game. Your turn is to wait until we round again._

"Great. We're being stalked by the damn Riddler," Sylar sighed, slouching against the locker. Peter chewed on his bottom lip as he fell into deep thought.

"Anyone else miss the good old days when the villain just tried to kill you instead of leaving annoying clues everywhere?" She had asked the question without putting any thought behind it and was forced to laugh a little when they both turned to stare at an un-amused Sylar.

* * *

Noah walked through the wreckage that was left in the street from the fire fight that had taken place only an hour before. Broken glass and shredded metal littered the ground. A fire still smoldered inside of a car that had one side crushed in.

The secondary response team had been sent out to deal with a 'special' related disturbance. It was supposed to be a quick and easy mission. Subdue the man blowing out the front windows of the buildings and be done. There was only one man and there were nine members of the team.

Quick and easy was the way it was supposed to go.

They had all be annihilated. Every last one.

"Mr. Bennett, we think we might have recovered some evidence as to who might have caused all of this." The young investigator popped a security tape into a small recorder and handed it to him.

He watched as the team leader cautiously approached the hooded man, attempting to defuse the situation before anything serious could happen. Their leader was popped up into the air and slammed into the side of the car, being killed on impact. The rest of the agents began to attack.

The suspect in question deflected all of the assaults before turning into a blur. When the dark hooded figure came to a stop all of the company agents were standing still. And then they fell over, in pieces.

The man lifted his hood and looked directly at the camera. It was the visage of one, known to be deceased, Nathan Petrelli.

Noah felt his gut bottom out.

* * *

Sylar entered his apartment and stopped. Something was different. Someone was there.

He made to flip the light switch but was stopped by a pair of warm hands grabbing his and slamming them into the wall. A woman's body pressed up against his and delicate lips began caressing his neck. Tingles ran under his skin in every direction.

He brought his arms down and grabbed the female's slender shoulders, turning and pushing her into the wall, pinning her down with deep aggressive kisses. Hands slipped under his shirt and moved over his chest and stomach. Somewhere between the leg getting wrapped around his waist and the nibbling at his ear, the shirt was discarded into the darkness.

Blindly, he removed his visitor's shirt as well and smiled to himself as her breathing escalated while his hands liberally explored every inch of her. His kisses ran down her neck, eager, hungry. It had been a long time since he had received attention like this.

There was a delighted gasp as he placed his hands on her butt and lifted her onto him. Thighs tightly clenched around his hips as he carried her into the sparse bedroom and fell back onto the air mattress with a loud hiss. He brought himself to a sitting position and nails dug into his back. His skin burned everywhere her lips touched him.

Clothing flew randomly around the room. He rolled over, slamming her into the deflating mattress and roughly grabbed her hips, lifting a silky leg over his waist. Deep throaty groans erupted as their bodies intertwined. Electricity coursed through him.

Sylar fell asleep with a smile on his face that night. His companion buried her face into his chest as his arm wrapped around her. One hand massaged her sweat glistening back and the other tangled his fingers in the strands of blonde hair that glowed white in the window's moonlight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Tell me you want me."

She could feel hot kisses and rough hands roaming all over her body. Little blue electrical sparks tingled over her skin. Claire was more than a little reluctant to wake up that morning. She found herself tangled in her sheets from tossing and turning all night. Sweat gleamed over her face and chest.

A shower was in order. A nice long _cold_ shower.

Icy water cascaded over her, chilling her to the bone and snapping her back to reality. Her mind wondered over the past. When exactly was it that she had stopped despising every fiber of his being. At what point was she able, not to forgive or even forget what he had done to her and her loved ones, but seemingly move beyond it.

For whatever reason Sylar had had a strange fascination with her since that day he had come to steal her ability. She gagged a bit thinking about how his fingers had pillaged her brain. He had taken a piece of her for himself.

And then it dawned on her.

During their alternate reality experience Sylar had been the one to grant her the new power. With her permission that time, he had delved into the depths of her physical mind again and placed a piece of himself there. He had been generous enough to warn her that he no idea what the side effects would be, but that a possible connection could be made through the transference of power.

There was a real link between them now.

* * *

Sylar rolled over and groped around the other side of the bed, looking for the woman that had fallen asleep there only a few hours ago. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting alone on a rather deflated air mattress in his barren bedroom where no trace of his companion from last night could be found.

He fell back onto the hard floor and laughed to himself.

His company phoned started beeping with an incoming message somewhere in the other room. He grabbed his crumpled pants from the floor and slipped them on as he scrambled to find the phone. A gentle knock sounded at the door. Sylar left the phone forgotten for a moment and answered. He had to smile when he saw it was Claire standing there.

The smile faded quickly though when he noticed that she was dressed up in their regulation body armor.

"I'm here to bring you in, Sylar," she said with a certain sadness in her voice.

"Where are the others?" he asked looking down the hallway for their team mates.

"They're all waiting outside. We're hoping that you'll come quietly."

Sylar hung his head and leaned against the door for a long minute. He found his shirt and jacket and pulled them on as he led the way out.

* * *

Claire quietly rocked herself back and forth against the wall of the interrogation room. Noah sat in the corner staring off into space as he subconsciously spun the barrel of a revolver over and over.

Matt didn't need his telepathy to sense the tension in the air as he walked through the door and took his seat at the shiny steel table across from Sylar.

"I guess I don't need to ask how you're doing."

Sylar shot him a venomous look.

_Have they told you why you're here yet?_

_Nope._

_Last night the second response team was sent out to settle a disturbance complaint against a telekinetic. The guy decimated them. They're all dead._

Sylar looked up and cocked his head to the side.

_They think it was me?_

_There was some… interesting evidence suggesting that, yeah._

Matt got up from his seat and stepped out the door, quickly returning with the digital recorder that held the security tape. He pushed play and handed it to Sylar who watched the fight.

_Nathan…_

_Obviously he's dead and you're the only one we know that can shape shift into his form. What were you doing between midnight and four last night?_

_Thinking about your wife._

Matt winced at the crude comment.

_Come on, man. Just tell me so we can get out of here._

Sylar's eyes flashed to Claire who crossed her arms and turned away. Matt picked up on the look.

_Was Claire there?_

The door to the interrogation room opened with a loud squeak and Chris McKinley stepped in looking a little sheepish. Charisma Jones followed him in, wringing her hands.

"Go ahead and tell them what happened," Chris prodded her.

"Agent Gray didn't kill those people," she said with a heavy sigh. "He was with me when it happened…"

It took a long moment but everyone caught on to what she was saying. Matt's eyes widened and he uttered a loud "Oh," as he looked back to Sylar. The dark man was in a world of shock all his own.

_You thought she was…_

Claire's face was an open book of emotion. Surprise, anger, sadness, they all flashed in her eyes one after another. She pushed past the other agents and stormed out of the room with tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

Sylar was still motionless.

* * *

Claire didn't even bother to tape her knuckles as she started wailing on the punching bag. All she could see was his face. His stupid, stupid, horrible face. She heard the sound of bone crunching in her hands and a snapping in her wrist but she didn't even care. It wasn't like she could feel the pain. Not really. Not the pain she wanted to feel that would make everything else easier to deal with, but he had taken that from her too.

"You look like you need someone to talk to," Chris said ducking as her fist almost collided with his face. He took a few swings at the bag as he gave her a second to think.

"Or if you don't want to talk and just need somebody to take it out on…"

This time he didn't hold back as they fought. She knew that he knew that she needed this. She didn't even feel bad when she sent him to the floor with a charged up hit to the face. He lay stunned for a moment, examining the amount of blood that came pouring from his nose.

Claire took the knife from her leg strap and drew the blade across her palm. She dripped the blood over her partner's face where a cut split his eyebrow and watched as he regenerated.

"I thought you guys didn't have a thing," he said with a snort as his sinuses knit back together.

"We don't. We never did. I don't even really know why I care."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

Claire thought about it for a minute and discovered that she didn't even have an answer for that.

"He killed both of my biological parents. Even my grandfather. He tried to make _me_ kill my grandmother. He did kill my uncle once but it didn't take.

"He tried to kill my adoptive parents. He killed the girl who used to be my best friend in high school. He basically killed or tried to kill everyone that I ever remotely cared about. He stalked me and made my life a living hell for years. And just to top it off he pretty much brain raped me to steal my ability." Claire sat down on the floor next to Chris, feeling the confession to be a little cathartic.

"But you don't hate him," he said a little more matter of factly than she liked.

"A big part of me does. More than anything."

"And the other part?"

"The other part doesn't know," she said hanging her head in her hands. "It's like I can see this other side of him that isn't a monster."

"Because you're connected."

"What?" Claire felt her eyes widen, suddenly alert to Chris's every facial expression as she searched for what he meant.

"A blind person could see it, Claire. When you're out in the field together… Every time he moves, you move. Everything he feels, you feel. You guys don't even notice it but the rest of us do. The way you work together without even talking… It's almost like you can read each other's minds or something. You're just two parts to a bigger whole."

She felt lost in those thoughts. They were comforting and terrifying at the same time.

"Sounds like a good night to get drunk, huh?" He gave her a wicked smile.

* * *

Sylar may have left the interrogation room a free man, but as he exited the department's campus he only felt trapped. He was a caged animal surrounded by millions of thoughts that he couldn't get out of his head.

A part of him knew that it hadn't been Claire last night. She never would have come to him that way but he had been so desperate to believe. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He took out the postcard from the depot and headed out to the watch shop with purpose.

The shop was dark and cluttered with a thin layer of dust settled over everything. Sylar felt at home amongst the precise tickings and tockings of the time pieces. He admired the wide selection of various cogs, pendulums, coils and other spare parts. Somewhere there was something off though. He listened carefully and followed his instincts to a medium size cuckoo clock.

It was an old time piece, set in an early 1900s German style wooden case with fantastic gothic engraving work. Sylar felt like his old self as he adored the hand made craftsmanship. He pressed his ear against it and determined that it was indeed the time piece he was searching for. The clock was running nearly five seconds to slow.

He almost subconsciously reached for the tools as he gingerly removed the backing. One tiny cog had a minute tooth missing that caused the next wheel over to catch giving the delay in time. He found a replacement part easy enough. As Sylar repaired the lovely time piece and gave it a doting amount of oil he noticed something odd poking out from the bottom of the casing. He closed up the back of the instrument and found a secret compartment underneath. Inside was a manila folder of what appeared to be documents of a secretive nature.

Flipping through the folder he discovered detailed evaluations of a young man in his early twenties named Brandon Miller. The subject had been a coma patient during the eclipse that had caused so many powers to manifest. However, he had retained to ability to alter the perceptions of time and reality in the people around him.

Researching further, Sylar found documentation of the effects of the boy's power on not only himself but Claire and Peter as well. They had been subject to some kind of experiment without even knowing it. What was worse though was that they had manipulated him and Claire to fight and… quite nearly it seemed to develop an intimate relationship. He wracked his brain, trying to cause all of the information make sense. Why couldn't he remember this?

And there it was. The coup de grace of information. Claire hadn't just developed a new power over night. Sylar himself had been the one to give it to her. They were connected.

So many questions were answered. So many more were risen.

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into coming here," she groaned as the neon lights danced across the wall behind her.

"Relax. We'll drink. We'll dance. And we'll have a spectacular time!" Chris declared as he walked her over the dance floor and towards the bar.

"You do know that I can't actually get drunk? My ability, it prevents that!" she shouted over the roaring music of the night club.

Chris flashed another wicked smile as he pulled a loaded syringe from the pocket of his leather jacket. A small pang of fear jolted her stomach as he waved it in front of her.

"Beta blockers!" He yelled. "They're a key ingredient to neutralizing abilities. Suresh always keeps them handy in the lab."

Claire wasn't quite sure what to think at first. She still felt anxiety hovering in her gut though and wished more than anything to be rid of it.

"I'm trusting you!" she shouted with a smile. He inconspicuously lifted the cap from the needle and dosed her with one stick. She didn't feel any different at first. Four rounds of tequila shots later though she found herself thoroughly relaxed.

They laughed. They danced. They found a cozy dark corner with a plush couch and talked about things that didn't matter. She giggled at the butterflies that haunted her when he leaned in for a kiss.

Three more rounds of shots later she experienced what it was like to be drunk. It wasn't terrible when compared to so many of the uncontrollable moments she had had in her life, but it was strange to feel real nausea. The music was so loud and time seemed to fluctuate as people moved around them. The floor grew unstable beneath her feet as she found herself at the bar for one more drink.

Claire groped the wall to the ladies' room. Suddenly it wasn't so fun anymore. She felt weak and knew for sure that she would fall over on her face at any moment. She splashed some cold water on herself at the sink. Something was wrong and it wasn't the alcohol. She could feel it.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind and forced her chin up into the air so that her throat was exposed. She flailed, trying to fight but it was futile. There was a sting on the side of her neck like another needle and then the floor came up at her. The world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

Alright, get your groans ready. I know I'll probably get a few for this chapter, but there is a method to madness. I promise. With that said, epic battle time!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Go, go, go!" He shouted over the gun fire, waving a group of innocent civilians through the combat zone. Sylar felt the impact of the bullets hitting him in the chest. His armor may have made him bullet proof but it didn't stop the harsh recoil of pain whenever he was hit.

Another slug cracked the visor of his helmet so that he couldn't see through it. With a heave and a sigh he ripped it off his head and drop kicked the damn thing so that it bounced across the ravaged road way.

A tank rolled up over the hill and dropped its cannon in his direction. Sylar focused an EMP in that direction to shut down the targeting system before flying on top of the armored vehicle and ripping the hatch off its hinges. Gun fire met him from inside. He pulled the three operators out and tossed them to the ground, a lightning bolt arched over them all, sending them seizing and incapacitating them long enough to melt the tank down into a pool of black ooze on the ground.

Hordes of enemy units spilled over the barricades at Claire. She didn't even flinch as they surrounded her, pounding on her shield with all manner of improvised weaponry. She thrusted the force field outward sending them all flying in every direction. One hopped up and ran at her again. She grabbed his arms as they reached for her and swung him over her head, turning to pick up the next and slammed him into the ground with a visible splitting of the earth beneath him.

Grenades were tossed in Sylar's direction and Claire threw her shield at him to absorb the blasts. With a nod in her direction he telekinetically grabbed a handful of the insurgents and tacked them to the wall of the closest building.

Charisma fired long range shots down on the enemy with a high powered rifle. Sylar leapt up to the roof top where she was perched and dragged a target down, landing a few super strength punches before the man had a chance to attack his partner.

One of the enemy targets ran at Chris as he fired his pistol from behind a broken slab of wall. Claire used her energy to push the enemy far enough away for McKinley to pivot and double-tap the man. Sylar flooded her shield with a stream of lightning, charging it up and running to freeze a few loose ends in their tracks. Claire let out a blast wave of electrical feed back that decimated a remaining nest of enemy units. She stopped and drew in a deep breath, feeling a sharp pain in her chest. Gazing around she spotted Sylar motionless on the ground.

She rushed to his side and found blood pooling along his side. An armor piercing round had splintered its way through his protective gear, penetrating his kidney. Claire ripped the whole a little wider and didn't even hesitate to jam her hand into the open wound. Sylar cried out in pain and grabbed her shoulder hard. She fished out the fragments of the slug and watched as the wound closed up.

He could feel the warm sun on his face as he sat back up and looked around them. Charisma took down the last target and the area was silenced. A gentle breeze blew Claire's hair into her face and they both took a long deep breath of peaceful, if not somewhat dust laden air.

A helicopter touched down away from the scene of the fight and Noah stepped out with a wide smile. One more gun shot rang through the air and Claire hit the dirt face first. Her father ran to her side, screaming as the blood saturated the dirt around her.

Sylar turned and focused on the straggler fleeing for his life. Darkness flooded his aura as he flew after the man and froze him into a solid block of ice. Taking a long look at his handy work he reached out and flicked the living statue with his fingers. A clink resonated through the ice and the man shattered into a thousand pieces.

Their team had been sent into Mexico to deal with a super powered warlord that threatened national security. As far as the official record was concerned, they had never left American soil. Sylar couldn't hide the fact that a little joy came from not having to worry about the body count he would leave. He might be fighting for the good guys, but deep down he was still a killer and that would never change.

Chris was scratching at his head furiously, not knowing what to do. Charisma wiped away glistening tears and Noah had knelt to the ground placing sweet Claire's bloody head in his lap. His face was blank. Shock had set in when she didn't come back.

Sylar looked deep into the glazed eyes, momentarily feeling something break inside of himself. He pulled her limp body away from Noah and held her in his arms for a long minute, stroking her hair. With a tender kiss on her cheek he turned her head so that he could look at the gaping wound in the back of her skull.

Charisma ran away to heave and vomit as he stuck his fingers into Claire's sticky head. There was a sickening squishing sound as he searched for the bullet. Finally he yanked the metal case out and heard a gasping sound. Life returned to her body quickly and the hole closed so that he could never tell it had been there.

She clutched at him, throwing her arms around his waist and buried her face deep into his chest. Sylar sat there rocking her back and forth and kissing the top of her blood caked hair. He gently lifted her chin so that they faced each other.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, still sounding a little broken to himself.

* * *

It all felt so surreal. Here she was in the middle of a war zone when only yesterday she had woken up in her warm cozy bed safe at home.

Noah had a strong cup of coffee and a healthy plate of eggs ready for her when she ventured out of her room. At first she had been a little surprised to see him there until she started to remember the night before.

"Chris called me to come get you two last night," he had started with a stern frown. "I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in you Claire Bear. I thought you had more sense than that."

She struggled to remember what had happened at the club while she choked down her father's horrific cooking. She could remember drinking and dancing. With a blush that she hoped Noah wouldn't notice she remembered kissing her partner quite passionately on a black velvet couch. And then… nothing. Her first experience with being drunk hadn't been to bad but she felt certain that there wouldn't be a repeat performance coming any time soon.

Now she stepped out of a curtained stand that functioned as an impromptu showering station where they were camping out. She carried a bucket of cold water that ran red with her blood and dumped it out on the dirt outside of the perimeter Noah had set up.

Sylar moved a long razor sharp blade over his throat and face as he shaved. He peered out of the corner of his eye at her, catching her looking at him. He hadn't said much of anything after he had brought her back to life earlier. Now he just wiped the knife off on his pants and continued to shave. Sometimes he could be so weird.

Charisma sat with a lap top, typing out front line reports furiously. Chris chuckled to himself as the marshmallow he was roasting caught on fire. Noah polished his guns fervently. A long crease formed across his forehead. Claire marveled at how she had never noticed the signs of age creeping into her father.

* * *

Sylar was happy to see this day end. It had been an endless fire fight since dawn and he imagined the little aches and pains of battle fatigue that he should have been feeling. He sauntered away from the others with his sleeping bag. He wasn't sure how much he could look at Claire right now. Of course he was very well aware of the fact that she could never truly die, but there was a scar that had formed when he had looked into her dead eyes that way.

He climbed into his make shift bed and stared up at the stars until a pair of warm familiar hands glided their way over his chest. Charisma had followed him and now invited herself to share his sleeping bag. In an odd way he was a little conflicted over her presence. He didn't want her, but he wasn't going to turn away the company.

She started kissing his shoulder and neck, running her hands down his stomach. He lifted her leg over so that she straddled his waist. Their mouths met with a spark of passion and she gyrated her hips in a way that he couldn't ignore.

Sylar wanted to tell himself that this wasn't a lie. There was no vague resemblance to another woman. This wasn't wrong. She was exactly what he needed at that moment.

* * *

Noah got a little chuckle out of seeing Chris and his daughter snuggled up to one another. They were both in their own separate sleeping bags so hanky panky wasn't an issue and it was nice to see her getting close to his idea of the ideal young man. It reminded him of his own youth the way Chris's arm lay sweetly over the top of her bag.

McKinley was bursting with youthful enthusiasm. His file was already filled with commendations and impressive accomplishments. He was reliable and trustworthy. And he wasn't Sylar.

A long career in his line of work had made him an expert at feigning ignorance, but it was almost enough to push him over the edge the way she looked at that murderer sometimes. Claire Bear could protest her unending hatred for him until the end of time but he knew what it was like to spend your days in close quarters combat with someone over a long period of time. Those were the conditions that formed long lasting bonds. That was how he had gotten close to Lauren after all.

Noah found little comfort in knowing that the relationship would probably not be sealed in his life time. He would wither with age and his bones would turn to dust long before Sylar or Claire would age a day. She was already beginning to crumble her defenses against his persistence after only a few years. How many decades would it take after he was gone to give in completely?

* * *

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me how you learned to do that," Sylar remarked over his shoulder as he telekinetically yanked a man off the ground and floated him to a waiting Claire who slammed the man into the ground and gave his jaw a sharp kick to knock him out.

"Does it matter?" She fired back with a little venom.

"That's a lot of power to develop over night. I just want to know how you got it."

He was probing and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it. There was a secret the size of an elephant hanging over his head and he just wanted her to admit that she was aware of what it was. For all he knew she had been involved the entire time, probably with her father and manipulative grandmother.

A grenade blast knocked them both back to the ground. Sylar rolled over partially on top of Claire. There was a long pause as they looked into one another's eyes before she viciously shoved him off. In the blink of an eye they had devolved from fighting the bad guys together to fighting each other. She kicked him in the gut so he punched her in the face.

The partners trailing behind exchanged confused looks. Their relationship had always been volatile at best, but no one even pretended to understand why they were fighting now. Somewhere between Sylar burning part of her face off and Claire crushing a concrete wall with his ragged body, Noah reappeared from behind.

"Hey! You two get a hold of yourselves!" He scowled as he approached the bloody duo. "Claire, take the lead."

She shot Sylar with a look that should have been able to kill. "Whatever," she said shoving him one last time before stalking off.

"Sylar," the dark man turned his deadly eyes from Claire's back to Noah. "Breathe." Bennett slapped a hand on his shoulder. He may not have known what this latest quarrel was about and he didn't care to know, but he understood. He just had to keep it together long enough to finish the mission and then they could go home and settle the dispute.

Sylar took a deep breath and began trudging along after her again. This argument could be settled later. He had the same bone to pick with Peter while he was at it.

It didn't take long for the group to reach their destination. Their primary target was even kind enough to meet them at the door of his estate, not that it would have mattered since virtually all of his body guards had been obliterated already. Alejandro Fernandez was a tall, thick bodied man that would have been intimidating even without his abilities. He puffed on a comically large cigar as he watched the team approach him.

"I wondered how long it take you to get here. You made good time," he said through a thick Spanish accent.

"We're here from the-"

"I know who you are and what you've come to do," the large warlord cut off Noah. "All I have to say is that I will not go willingly."

"We like a challenge," Sylar said with an evil glint in his eye.

Alejandro dropped the cigar, popped his neck and stretched out his arms before him. With a grunt his skin started splitting and hardening into an iron like shell, long protuberances slid out from the splits like spikes.

Blue sparks started crackling in Sylar's hands, twisted sneers lifting on both men's faces. A lightning bolt shot across the distance between them. Fernandez lifted an arm to block the attack and the blue wattage speared over his plating, flowing directly to the ground. Little cinders floated in the air in front of him. The man bellowed with deep laughter.

He charged at Sylar, slowly at first and then gaining incredible speed like a juggernaut. Sylar hit the ground and slid, breaking the earth beneath him into a deep rut. Alejandro was there on top of him in no time, lifting the smaller man above his head and bringing his back down with a sickening crack over a spiked knee. Sylar rolled over the ground, limp for a moment and then groaning as he tried to get back up on his knees. A large plated foot swung at his gut and lifted him back into the air with a turbulent spin.

Alejandro looked back at Claire and boomed with laughter again.

"Would you like a turn, little one?"

"Oh, boy," was all she had time to choke out before he charged back at her. She raised her shield and braced herself for the hit. Claire landed with a heavy thud several yards away. Her shield had absorbed most of the impact but not enough. Her leg strung itself away from her body at a disgusting angle.

Chris opened fire on the hostile only to have his bullets ricochet off of the tough hide and find their way back to him. He crumpled to the ground. Noah and Charisma both rushed to his side and started doing what they could to stop the bleeding.

"Hey!" Sylar yelled, distracting Fernandez away from Claire while she set her leg back in place. He blasted the man with radioactive rays. Alejandro simple raised his arm and deflected the attack again. The plates glowed red with the heat. Sylar launched himself at the man and was batted away like a play thing. His face healed over the blistered flesh from being struck by the hot arm.

Claire jumped onto Fernandez's back, wrapping one arm around his throat and hanging on for dear life as he flailed around trying to pick her off. He managed to grab the back of her chest armor and lifted her over his head, slamming her into the ground which cracked around her.

Sylar mentally lifted the hostile into the air and threw him through the wall of the house. He ran to help Claire to her feet and they both disappeared into the house. Alejandro had made an impressive dent in the ceramic tiled floor but he hopped up and shook off the daze with another laugh.

"Surely there must be a mistake here. This can't be the best they would send after me!"

Claire pushed her force field at the man and knocked him back to the floor. Sylar telekinetically lifted the man again and sent him crashing into the high ceiling and falling into the floor. The house began crack and crumble over the trauma.

On one trip up, Fernandez grabbed the railing of a stairway, refusing to go up high again. When it began to break apart he threw the splintered off section at Sylar, impaling his shoulder. Just as he had removed the wooden stake he was hit with another charge, sending him flying into a wall and sliding to the floor.

Claire jumped through air looking to land a charged up fist to the man's head. Instead he grabbed her and tossed back to the floor with a loud snapping sound of broken bone.

"You. You are a very pretty girl," he said with a grotesque smile as he stroked her hair with one hand while another pinned her down by the throat. "I will find great pleasure in making you one of my wives."

She spit blood in his face and he nearly tore her jaw loose with a heavy punch that had her seeing stars. Sylar jumped on his back and grabbed hold of one of plates over the man's arm. There was a loud metallic grinding noise as he almost got it ripped off, but Alejandro reached over and clutched his throat giving it a vice like squeeze.

Claire found the one part of his body that wasn't protected with a sharp kick below the belt. Fernandez let out a gush of breath and dropped to his knees. She skittered out from under him before he collapsed.

_Sylar!_

She yelled at him, knowing that he would hear her thoughts.

_Think high school science. What happens to metal that gets super cooled after being heated up!_

He nodded, a wicked grin spreading under a layer of blood that coated his face.

As Alejandro climbed back to his feet Sylar started throwing more blasts of burning heat at him. His plated arms again deflected the attacks but were beginning to glow with the absorbed energy. Another charge sent Sylar back through the wall of the house and tumbling head over heels through the yard. Claire was quick to join him after being kicked through the air and somersaulting to his side. They both heaved for air and clambered to get back up.

_That way isn't fast enough. Time to give him a blast of feedback. _

Fernandez cocked his head to side in confusion as he stepped out and saw Sylar dosing her shield with a stream of white hot radiation. Her skin started to cook under the heat and it was struggle to keep the protective force field from giving way. He started to give out from the massive energies he was pouring into her.

Alejandro figured out that this move was something he should be attempting to stop and he charged at Claire, which she had anticipated and side stepped at the last possible second. He went skidding into the dirt and she followed close behind, unleashing a bright red, super heated blast wave.

Fernandez's plated skin was glowing completely red now. Smoldering heat poured off of him in waves and burnt the air around him. Claire ran back to Sylar who was laying on the ground exhausted to a point that his nose had started to bleed and he wasn't able to get back to his feet without her assistance. She screamed at him to freeze the man, but his energy to do so had gone into the first dose of feedback.

She took his face in her hands and gazed deep into his tired brown eyes and spoke the word that could always snap him out of his stupors.

"Gabriel."

Alejandro was back and grabbed her arm, the hot plates searing flesh away from bone, and threw her to the ground. He grabbed Sylar by the throat and lifted him into the air. The extra adrenaline rush coursed through his veins giving him one last stand's worth of power and he placed his hands on the arm that was choking him.

Steam hissed loudly as the thick cloud enveloped them all. They couldn't even see if the plan was working.

Sylar hit the ground with a heavy thud.

As the air started to clear somewhat they could see Fernandez was still moving, but many times slower. A thin coating of frost covered his hardened skin and there was a horrible screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard with every motion the villain made.

Claire drew up her shield once more and used it to hurl the man to the ground. She leapt on top of him and tore into his armored hide, ripping away the protective plates one screeching, grinding panel at a time.

And yet he didn't stop.

A large freezing cold hand wrapped around her neck and forced her into the earth. He loomed over her with a fist cocked back ready to deliver a deadly blow and then two gun shots pierced the air.

Fernandez fell backward, stilled for good. Noah stood several yards away with Charisma's prized rifle in his hands.

Both Sylar and Claire lay there on the ground for what seemed like a life time, just staring at the sky and waiting for their tired bodies to regenerate. And then something flickered in the back of his mind. Someone he had completely forgotten over the course of the intense fight.

Sylar ran back to where Chris was slowly bleeding out. He struggled to breathe and blood oozed from his mouth. He pulled the knife from Charisma's leg strap and sliced a deep gash into his hand, placing it over the other man's wounds. They all watched as his body started to push the bullets out and heal.

* * *

Noah was never so happy to see the shining the lights of the D.S.R.E.C. facility as he guided the helicopter over the landing pad that night. He knew Claire would be ecstatic to get a long hot shower and crash in a soft bed. He shook his tired head thinking about his daughter and Sylar finding the energy to laugh at one another after Fernandez was finally taken down.

They were both saturated in their own blood. Their uniforms had been shredded apart by the man's spiked skin to a point that very little was really being concealed anymore. They had both endured so many grievous wounds that it had taken nearly an hour before they were completely regenerated. It hadn't been hard to understand why the man was considered such a large threat. Anyone but the two immortals never would have been able to take him down.

And Chris. Noah shuddered to think how close they had come to losing him. If it hadn't been for Sylar's blood the poor boy would have surely been buried in the Mexican desert that night.

Looking back over his shoulder it seemed almost a shame to wake them up. Sylar was snoring loud enough to wake the dead in Jones's lap. Claire drooled just a little onto Chris's shoulder as they leaned against each other.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

While the other agents were unable to look at the corpse without dry heaving or grimacing in pure disgust Noah reflected to himself about how jaded he had become to it all. He had seen so many grisly crime scenes, so many maimed and broken bodies. A distinctly large portion of them had looked exactly like this.

An older woman hung from the wall of her, what would have been, cozy apartment. Countless pictures of her grandchildren stared at her with wide smiling faces. She had basically been nailed there with all manner of random objects forced through her body. Blood stained the wall behind her and pooled on the floor beneath. Her head slumped forward exposing the empty skull, the top of which lay a few feet away.

She may have been a pre-cog, but she never stood a chance.

* * *

Sylar ignored the conspicuous stares of the office aids. Of course they all had known who he was. Some of them had probably even gotten into this line of work on the credits of detailed essays about him. Seeing the legendary Boogie Man in the flesh though, that was a vibrant experience all its own, sparking fear and curiosity.

The secretary busily typing in front of Peter's office looked up as he passed by, the same glint of recognition in her eyes. She started in her chair like she meant to protest him showing up without an appointment but quickly turned away and pretended to return to her work. Sylar mentally pushed both doors open and slammed them behind himself with a dramatic flair.

Peter looked up from his paperwork in surprise as he stormed up to the desk and slammed the thick manila folder down in front of him.

"Sylar, what the hell-"

"Did you know about this?" he demanded, pointing furiously at the collection of documents. Peter flipped through the folder, his eyes growing wider with each turn of a page.

"Where did you get this?" he asked quietly.

"Remember the post cards we got with the snow globe keys? I followed my clue and it lead me straight to this."

Sylar could feel the waves of tension and hostility rolling off of himself. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. The rational side of his brain had put it together that Peter probably knew less than he did about the situation.

Peter drummed his fingers over a picture of a brain scan with his niece's name attached to it.

"That explains a lot," he mumbled to himself. "Looks like I need to call my mother. If there's a buried secret to be found, she's usually got the shovel near by."

"What's going on?"

Both men looked towards the door. Neither of them had heard Claire enter the room. Concern painted her face.

Sylar slammed the folder shut and whisked it away from Peter with a meaningful glance. The Petrelli grabbed his arm and transferred the power of telepathy to himself.

_I take it she doesn't know and I'm not supposed to tell._

_Some of the stuff that's in here… I'm not so sure it would do her any good to learn._

Claire crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Hello?" she called to them in agitation over their silent communications.

_Right, well I'm going to talk to Angela. You should probably take Claire and run distraction._

"You and I are going to see Mohinder," he said, clearly not giving the girl a choice in the matter. She glared at the back of his head indignantly as he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the office.

* * *

"I'm not sure I understand what this is all about, Sylar." Suresh glanced nervously from Claire to him and back again, sensing the obvious tension between them.

"I just need to see something for myself. That's all," he tried to sound reassuring but he could already imagine the way the scientist's graphs would ripple when he said it. There was a mysterious hole in the pit of his stomach that refused to close.

Claire hadn't said anything since he had brought her here to be hooked up to a series of sensory cables with him. She couldn't possibly have known what he was up to but he recognized the look of turning wheels behind her eyes.

"How did you get your power, Claire?," he started calmly.

"Does it matter?" she cocked her head at him and took a step to the side.

"You always answer that question with another question. Why?" He too took a step to the side.

"Maybe because you keep asking me when you know I'm not going to answer you."

Mohinder glanced up from the dancing colors of activity on his computer. A glimmer of understanding came over him as he watched the two moving around one another in the observation chamber.

"Or maybe, because you're afraid to admit how you got it." The words stung a little more than he had intended them to, but now was not the time to hold back if he wanted answers.

"I didn't have to kill anyone for it if that's what you want to know."

Sylar winced at her harsh tone.

"If you didn't do anything wrong then why are you hiding?"

"Who says I'm hiding anything?"

"Nobody has to say anything, Claire. We can see it. _I_ can see it." They had started circling one another without noticing. Their stances shifted aggressively.

"If it bothers you so much maybe you should stop looking." She shoved his shoulder.

"Face it, Claire Bear, you _like_ it when I look don't you," Sylar smirked as he shoved her back.

"Don't ever call me Claire Bear." The venom was really spilling over now.

"Oh, touched a nerve there, didn't I. Is that a privilege you reserve for Mr. McKinley?"

Claire's shield started glowing around her. "Leave Chris out of this."

"Do you even remember how you got it?"

"Of course I do!" she screamed at him, realizing her mistake to late.

_Uh, oh._

That was the ammunition he was looking for.

"Tell me what you know," his voice was climbing in volume.

"If you want to know so bad why don't you just take it like you take everything else!" Claire threw her shield at him, slamming him into the wall. The fight was on.

"Because I want to hear you admit it! I want to hear you say out loud how you helped them manipulate me!" He used his telekinesis to knock her feet out from under her.

"What? I didn't help anyone manipulate you!"

"Then why do you remember when no one else does!"

"I don't know!" He hit her with a bolt of lightning. She bounced his head off the wall with a well placed punch.

"What do you know?"

"Apparently not as much as you _think_ you do."

"I found the file, Claire. I know all about Miller and the things he did to us."

_A file… How could there be a file? No one knows anything about it._

"They know. It was Angela and your own father that set it all up. The whole thing was some kind of twisted experiment to see what we would do."

She stopped for a moment, lost in thought.

_My dad would never do something like that…_

"That's where you're wrong, Claire. It's all in the file. You can see for yourself."

_If he knows about everything that happened then how can he think I helped them? _

Sylar narrowed his eyes at the girl. She had been thinking freely for a moment only to stop and throw up a mental block, shutting him out.

"You're still hiding something from me, Claire. What is it? What are you keeping from me?" He roared at her as they bull rushed one another in the tiny room. "Tell me why you've worked so hard to keep me out!"

He pinned her down on the floor, holding her hands above her head so that they were face to face.

Her expression was unreadable for a second and then she began to crumble.

"You said you loved me!"

The flood gates were opened with that one little confession.

Images of him teaching her how to use her new power flashed through her mind and twisted into memories of how they had slowly grown closer together during their fight for survival. How she had tried to save his life. The tingles of static over her skin as she kissed him. The look in his eyes as he told her that he needed her.

He felt the convoluted succession of emotions that had flooded through her when he told her that she had to kill him to stop their enemy. He saw himself through her eyes as he told her he loved her just before the death blow was delivered.

He saw how life had started over for them after it all. How she had reconnected with him in her own way just to find out that neither he or Peter had remembered a single thing. He felt how hard it had been to keep everything to herself when they saw each other every day. He saw himself with Charisma…

Tears were spilling from Claire's eyes when he refocused. Sylar rolled off of her in a daze.

That was her big secret. She hadn't kept anything from him about the ordeal out of malicious intent. What she had held so dearly was just a precious memory about the one single moment in her life that she might have been able to love him back.

And then it was all gone. Obliterated.

Sylar watched as she jumped to her feet, ripped off the cables they were tangled in and ran out of the lab. He waited a while before following suit.

Mohinder sat in the observation booth, long forgotten by his subjects. He felt like he would have to physically return his jaw to a closed position as he looked over the data the couple had just unwittingly given him.

* * *

Angela Petrelli already knew that her son would be coming and what questions he intended to ask. She didn't take long to mull over her options. She could lie and cover up what they had done. She could do that very well. She was an excellent liar.

But her son would know. As gullible as Peter could be at times, telepaths were much harder to fool. She would have to tell him the truth.

It had been more than one person's dream to see a weapon as powerful as Sylar molded into a force of good. Their own brand of good. The opportunity to test how far his streak of redemption could go would have been blasphemous to waste. And to see something like her granddaughter's growth of power blossom out of that had been a very pleasant surprise.

Power. It was always about the power.

Noah Bennett had argued and fought until he was nearly blue in the face, but in the end even he had agreed that a simple test was warranted. After all, if the department was to come to fruition Sylar would be used to further its goals. They had to know that he could be trusted under unfathomable circumstances. They had to know that he would not cave in to his own desires when push came to shove. In these ends, he had performed quite admirably.

"Hello, Mr. Kline," she answered her phone before it even rang. "Yes, I am very well aware of the situation. I can assure you that it will be handled appropriately."

With a click of her phone she went to answer the door.

* * *

Peter sat in the deep chair, hands supporting his face, a brooding mood spoiling his boyish good looks. He had listened carefully to everything his mother had told him about why they had concocted their alternate reality scheme. He had understood. He had not really been surprised by her actions or her reasoning. And yet, it all left a sour taste in his mouth.

There were still puzzle pieces missing from the big picture. But he knew that those bits would not come from Angela. Peter finally rose from his stupor and headed for the door without saying a word.

His mother followed him and placed a hand on his shoulder just as he was opening the door.

"Peter, tell Sylar to kill the girl."

"What?" he whirled around on her with a shocked expression.

_Trust me, son. Let Sylar kill the girl. It will all turn out as it is meant to._

In the way that only a woman of her stature could manage, Angela scooted her son out the door and closed it quickly behind him. He could hear a series of locks being turned from the other side.

"Let Sylar kill someone? I can't do that," he muttered to himself as he headed for the street corner to hail a cab.

The worry had not yet faded from him when he reached the intersection. He threw up his arm to catch one of the passing cars but was knocked from his feet by an unseen force. A blur caught the corner of his eye.

Images of himself as a bloody heap on the ground spilled over from another consciousness.

Peter felt the pressure first, like something raking over his body multiple times. And then the pain. He pressed a hand to his stomach and watched as dark red blood warmed his skin. Nathan's voice was at his ear as he fell to his knees.

"Hello, brother. Give Claire my best, will you?"

His vision was clouded white with acute agony as he fell forward. Sirens were screaming from somewhere in the distance_._


	7. Chapter 7

The review monster must be fed.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Claire walked through the darkened high school building. She had located the specific school featured on her post card and now her eyes darted from shadow to shadow. During the day it would be a bustling center of activity filled with voices, laughter and ringing bells. Now there was something about it that Claire could only describe as creepy. Each of her foot steps echoed from the walls and reverberated down the hall she was traversing.

At first she hadn't been sure where she should go, or even if she should go at all since her clue had said that it wasn't her turn. After giving it some thought though it seemed logical to look for something deeply connected to her past. If Sylar, she mentally cringed at even the thought of his name, had been sent to a watch shop and Peter was supposed to go to the political off his brother had held, then it made a practical amount of sense to search out anything involving cheerleading. That seemed to be what she was known for regardless of anything else she could do.

Whatever she would find would be a welcome relief from her day. The emotional blow out she had had with Sylar, another cringe, had been extremely draining. Whether it was from being forced to confess to him that at one time she had cared for him, or actually having to admit the fact to herself, she wasn't sure.

"Hello, Claire," her father's voice called to her. Chills went down her spine.

She turned around to see Nathan's likeness half hidden by shadow. It was his face and his voice, but the figure before her was to short and lanky to be a proper clone. The man was dressed in a pair of baggy blue jeans and a dark hooded sweat shirt that he had pulled around his head so that only the disconcerting facial features could be seen.

"You're the one that killed that team…" Her slight tinge of fear subsided quickly and morphed into pure hatred and fury.

"In the flesh," he said doing a little twirl.

"If you came here to kill me you're wasting your time," she said crossing her arms defiantly.

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that? You're so much more valuable to me alive."

"What do you want with me?" The fear was creeping back in.

Before she could blink he was behind her. His hands ran down her arms and to her hips, holding her dangerously close to him. He took a long deep breath of her hair by her neck sending another shiver through her.

"Has anyone ever told you that you smell like sunshine, Claire Bear?"

"You're disgusting," she spat through gritted teeth, repulsed by the idea that someone knowingly looking like her father would treat her this way. He laughed a little to himself.

"Would you like this form better?" Suddenly Sylar stepped out in front of her.

Claire drew up her shield and took a step back with her hands out in front of her waiting for an attack.

"Relax there, Claire Bear. I didn't come here to pick a fight," he waved his hand through her shield casually demonstrating that she couldn't fend him off even if he had. "You're so adorable when you're angry!" He laughed again placing his hands on her shoulders and backing her up against a cold wall so that she was pinned next to his body. "I can see why he's so… captivated by you…" A set of fingers ran the length of her face and dropped down to her chest and stomach.

"What do you want with me?" she repeated, her voice wavered making the man laugh again.

"I want a lot of things from you, Claire." He leaned in making like he was going to kiss her but stopped just short of actually touching her lips. "Unfortunately for me, it's not time yet. Your turn will come soon enough."

With another laugh he was gone as soon as he had appeared leaving her hair blowing in the wake.

Claire was ready to slide down the wall and let the sobs come but her phone rang, piercingly loud in the stillness. She answered and felt a sweeping dread crawl through her gut.

* * *

Claire burst through the door of the hospital room and rushed to Peter's side. It was frightening to see him like that, so pale and weak. Machines were beeping off to the side and a long set of thin tubes pumped air through his nose. Long rows of stitching covered his arms where she could see.

"They said he lost a lot of blood."

She had barely noticed Emma sitting there. The woman was sitting dutifully at his side, clutching his limp hand. Tears stained her cheeks.

"Can you help him?" Emma's sweet voice cracked.

Movement from the door caught Claire's peripheral attention. She automatically turned to see Sylar there approaching apprehensively. He gaped at Peter's broken form.

"What are you doing here?" Emma flinched at the poison in Claire's voice

"I heard he was here. I came by to see how he was doing…" There seemed to be a real tint of sadness in his eyes

"You've seen your handy work. Now get out!"

Sylar winced. As her words sank in a fire started to spark in him.

"What do you mean, 'my handy work'? You think _I _did this to him?"

"Just get out!"

Sylar chose to ignore her and moved closer to Peter's bed. His eyes flickered open.

"What happened?" he rasped. Emma swelled with happiness now that he was awake and made him groan in pain when she leaned over and hugged him.

"Someone attacked you. They left you on the street to die. You lost so much blood we weren't sure if you would make it," Emma croaked at him through her tears.

"You need to leave," Claire glowered at Sylar.

"Why are you so convinced that I did this?"

"Gee, it probably has something to do with the fact that you just assaulted me!"

"What? What are you talking about? I haven't even seen you since…" He felt a little reluctant to actually talk about the lab after what happened there.

"You were just there at the school! And you touched me… looking like Nathan!" Claire couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They spilled openly over her flushed cheeks.

"You went there alone?" It was Peter's turn to look cross.

Sylar plopped himself down in one of the visitor's chairs next to Emma. He rung his hands through his hair, disheveling it.

"Whoever it is, is a shape shifter, Claire. The same guy that killed that team-" He watched the images that flashed through her mind. He saw the Nathan impersonator shift into his form and torment her. "How do I convince you that it wasn't me, Claire?"

"You can't," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Do you guys mind settling this after I get healed?" Peter grimaced in pain.

Claire looked around the room for the something sharp to cut herself on. She hesitantly accepted a small pocket knife that Sylar offered up. A long gash opened across her arm under the blade's edge and she smeared the blood over one of Peter's wounds before it closed. Emma watched expectantly as his skin knitted itself back together and pushed the stitches out. She was able to give him a proper hug and a few desperate kisses once he was completely healed.

"Wait," he said throwing his legs over the side of the bed as he sat up, "how did this guy get past your shield, Claire?"

"I don't know. It must be a new ability or something. He just put his hands right through it like it wasn't even there."

"Well that should be your proof that I didn't do it. You were just shoving me around with it earlier today," Sylar noted absent mindedly as he stared off into space.

"Then that's how you can prove it," Peter motioned for Claire to come closer.

"What?"

"Claire, put up your shield," Peter instructed.

She generated her force field and walked a few more steps closer to Sylar. He reached out to touch the shimmering wall and his fingers slipped right through it.

"It wasn't me. I swear," he said with wide eyes as he stared at his hand.

Peter reached forward and slipped his hand through the barrier as well. Everyone turned to look at Claire who was just as shocked as they were.

* * *

"I don't understand. How did this happen?" Mohinder rushed the precious sample of Claire's blood to his microscope.

"That's what we're here to find out from you," Sylar growled.

Claire traced a finger over her arm where she had cut it earlier. They had all been distracted by Peter's condition and failed to notice that the cut had not healed completely. Peter held her hand and patiently waited for Suresh to come up with an answer. Emma clung to his side, unwilling to let him go after his near death experience.

"Oh, God," Mohinder looked up from his microscope and hurried to another one of the lab machines to read another set of test results.

"What is it?" Sylar growled again, mussing his hair some more.

The geneticist was frozen in place. His eyes refused to leave the page of test results and his lips quivered slightly.

"The Shanti virus… How is that possible?" Sylar shouted as he read Suresh's mind. "She's indestructible! She can't get sick!"

"Claire's ability is fighting the virus, and certainly slowing it down but it also seems to be making it stronger with time. It adapted to her system and now her blood is aiding its reproduction as much as it is working to stop it. I don't… I don't understand. It wasn't that long ago that we used your blood to help cure the virus." Mohinder looked like he was on the verge of a nervous break down.

"How did you cure it last?" Peter asked, struggling to remain objective about the situation.

"We made a mixture of her blood and my antibodies. The antibodies in my blood are a cure."

"Let's do it again then. You can mix your blood and mine," Sylar suggested, momentarily lifting from his agitation.

About an hour later Mohinder came forward with a fresh batch of serum that they all hoped would act as a cure. He injected Claire with the concoction and quietly fretted at how long it took for the small needle wound to stop bleeding.

They all knew what it would mean if they couldn't cure the Shanti virus. It was a debilitating and eventually lethal plague for their kind. The virus would attack the nervous system and kill off the person's connection to their special ability and then it would slowly destroy the rest of them from the inside out.

Sylar stopped pacing like a mad man when Claire sat up a little. Color briefly returned to her cheeks and she gave a weak smile, but when she tried to stand her legs gave out from under her. Sylar caught her before she could hit the floor. He swept her hair back from her face. She was completely unconscious now. They placed her body on a steel slab where she could monitored.

"It must be the ability… We used different blood, but the ability is the same. We might have just fed the virus…" Mohinder slapped his own face. He needed to take another blood sample but was afraid to remembering the way she bled before. What if he couldn't stop it this time?

"The Shanti virus is so rare. And with her ability even if Claire did come in contact with it she probably would have just shaken it off. For the virus to adapt to her system like that, it would have had to have been introduced to her directly, like an injection." The wheels in Peter's brain were turning. He pulled a small set of figurines from his pocket and held them up so everyone could see. They were the models from the snow globe he had gotten. A miniature Claire sitting next to an ailing Peter.

"I bet I have a good idea of how she could get exposed that way," he half muttered as he thought to himself. "Willing to fight, willing to die. Is there time to uncover the lie… I think I have to go to the place on my post card. It was supposed to be her turn to wait. What if my clue is the only hope we have?"

Peter jumped up from his chair and gave Emma a long kiss goodbye before heading for the door. He paused waiting for Sylar to come along. The dark man just stood there staring at Claire as she slept. His face was unreadable as he was lost to his own little world.

Emma walked over to him and put a gentle hand on his arm. "Go. I will stay with her." He started at her touch and hesitated looking from the girl to Peter and back again. Emma reached up to take his face in her hands and said "Go," again. Sylar nodded and headed after Peter, just in time to catch him as he fell.

Peter was added to the medical slab next to Claire. She had used her blood to heal him in the hospital and without her ability to even help fight it off, he too would soon be a goner.

* * *

Sylar melted the lock on the door of the political office and stepped inside. There was a slight tinge of mustiness to the air like no one had been inside for some time. A thin film of dust covered the rows of desks that he walked by. He stopped to study the portrait of Nathan Petrelli that still hung on the wall, looming over him.

It was hard not to remember what it had been like to share a mind with the man. Once upon a time Matt Parkman had attempted to shove the Petrelli's consciousness into Sylar's head. A somewhat futile mission to save the recently deceased Nathan and kill off Sylar. What a debacle that had been. Nathan the man no longer existed, but his memories lived on to some extent.

There was a small shuffling noise and low steady breathing that caught his attention. Sylar moved towards the sound and found himself staring down the handle of a closet. He readied himself for an attack by the mysterious Nathan impersonator and yanked open the door.

Inside was a young girl. She was weak and emaciated like she had been stuck in there for days. Ropes bound her hands and feet and tape covered her mouth. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the dark man and she tried to scream as he knelt down beside her.

A piece of paper was stuck to her chest. Untidy scrawl read: _Hello, my name is Christine. I'm the cure you're looking for._

"What the hell…"

* * *

Mohinder stared wide-eyed as Sylar stormed back into the laboratory with a small girl slung over his shoulder. He dumped the young woman into one of the hard steel chairs with an _oomph_, and stepped back to look at her. She had untidy dark hair and large green eyes that looked back with fear.

Suresh hurried to the girl's side and removed the tape from her mouth before undoing her bindings.

"Please don't kill me. I didn't do anything. Please don't hurt me anymore," she rattled through a weak voice.

Emma bounded over to the girl and looked questioningly at Sylar who reproduced that paper that had been attached to her previously. She read the message about the girl being their cure and forced it over to Suresh who seemed almost as puzzled as the others.

"This doesn't make any sense," Mohinder mumbled as he carried a set of test results over to the group. "She's a special, like us, but then, there's not really anything special about her blood or anything. I don't understand how she can be a cure for the virus. This has to be some kind of sick joke."

"What's your power?" Sylar asked gruffly, slamming his hands down on either side of her chair. She jumped at the motion and a tear slid down her cheek.

"I… I can walk through people's dreams… I can see what they can't," she broke down into another wave of sobs.

"How is that supposed to help us?" Sylar asked standing up. Emma put a hand on his shoulder, trying to help him calm down. She could feel his readiness to break at any moment.

"The man that took you," Mohinder knelt down to look the girl in the eyes, using his calm voice and gentle manner, "do you know who he was?" She pointed at Sylar and sniffled. "Do you remember anything that happened before you ended up in that closet?"

"I was just on my way home from school, and then he was there. He told me I was going to help him play a game. And then I woke up inside that dark place and my chest hurt."

Suresh sent Christine with Emma for an evaluation. A few moments later Emma explained that she had a long incision right at the top of her rib cage with heavily infected stitching. They put the girl through a few scans to get a clearer picture of what was going on inside. A vial showed up, resting in dangerous proximity to the girl's heart.

"We can't operate to get the vial out. I'm afraid that the spot where it's located… As it is, the vial looks like it's resting between the thoracic aorta and her heart. A specialist surgeon might be able to remove it, but I'm afraid that even finding one who would be willing to try will be difficult. Any little mistake could make the girl bleed out in moments."

"We don't have time for that," Sylar said darkly, looking over at Peter and Claire. They were both so pale and their breathing was shallow. As he listened he could hear their pulses getting weaker by the minute.

"Tell Sylar to kill the girl." They all looked at Christine. Her eyes had gone white and she seemed to be in some kind of trance. "Trust me, son. Let Sylar kill the girl. It will all turn out as it is meant to."

Sylar crossed over to her and waved his hand in front of her face. No reaction. He read her mind and watched Angela Petrelli relay that same message to Peter the night before. Christine shot her hand out and grabbed his.

_You'll get bored after like a hundred years of trying to off me, watching all your loved ones drop like flies. You may eventually come to forgive me… Maybe you'll even love me._

_She expected to live forever. And now she is dying. Immortality has made you both more afraid of death than a person of normal life expectancy. Can you live for the rest of eternity without her even though she may never care for you the way you do for her?_

"No," he said, surprising himself a little. He had thought about that possibility so many times before and never been able to give a straight answer to himself without staring it right in the face.

Now he had a choice. He could kill an innocent girl. He could even justify the action. One life sacrificed compared to how many Claire and Peter could save. Or, he could let her live and watch Claire die.

"Sylar, what are you doing?" Mohinder watched helplessly as the dark man raised a finger in the direction of the young girl. There was an earnest moment of hesitation for Sylar. An internal battle between his inner killer and redeemed self was being waged as each side struggled for dominance.

And then one of the heart beats in the room subsided.

With a quick flick of his wrist Christine's neck snapped and she crumpled to the floor. Emma screamed.


	8. Chapter 8

I feel the need to give a shout out to JamiePrufrock. I've been reading "How to Save a Life" and it's incredible, so if you haven't checked out that story you really should. Jamie is also totally awesome for helping me chase away a few of my typo demons. Thanks again by the way!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"Well, it's obvious that somebody's screwing with you," Christine garbled as she shoved another handful of cheese puffs into her mouth. "I mean seriously, think about it. Snow globes like your mom had a thing for, keys hidden where only you would be able to find them, mysterious clues floating around. Ms. Indestructible over there managed to die. Someone is definitely trying to get your attention."

Claire looked at the girl with poorly disguised disgust as she wiped her yellow fingers over her dirty shirt and munched noisily.

"But for what ends?" Mohinder interrupted, rubbing the space between his eyebrows where the headache had formed.

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just a dream walker, dude. I don't even pretend to know all the answers. I just see stuff the way it is."

"I've met a spirit guide before-"

"So _not_ a 'spirit guide'," she said waving a hand through the air like she was dismissing the idea before it could reach her. "I don't set people on their paths or whatever. I just see the truth in things. And trust me, sometimes the truth is the thing that people should be running from."

"But-" Suresh started to interrupt again. Christine held up her finger and waved it while she shook her head.

"Don't argue semantics with me, Mr. If I need some super strength to help me open a stubborn Pepsi, I'll give you a call. But leave the dream stuff to somebody that knows what they're talking about."

Sylar hadn't wasted any time after killing the young girl. He had retrieved the vial and dosed both Claire and Peter with the cure. When they had revived, surprisingly quickly, he had used his untainted blood to bring Christine back. She had been startled at first to find herself laying on a cold laboratory floor covered in her own blood but after a long hot shower and devouring nearly everything in sight she seemed to be back to her old self.

"Hey, I'm still here. No final death, no foul," she had told Sylar as he awkwardly made an attempt to apologize for killing her.

Mohinder had gladly taken the liquid remaining in the vial after determining that it would not be needed. All traces of the Shanti virus had been eradicated from both Claire and Peter's blood. He had been astounded at what he found, peering through his microscope at the sample.

The liquid in the vial was extracted blood plasma. When he compared it to both his own as well as Claire's blood, Suresh had discovered an acute lack of antibodies like he possessed but potent regenerative capabilities even more powerful than Claire's. The plasma sample, he surmised, must have been taken from another, much older and much stronger immortal.

"Whatever the end game is, they're already succeeding in taking you guys down a notch. You've already been manipulated into killing again," Christine looked pointedly in Sylar's direction where he stood slouching against the wall, trying not to face anyone else.

When Sylar made like he was going to protest Christine waved her hand at him too.

"Hey, I'm happy that you brought me back and everything, don't think I'm not. But…" she grabbed his eye contact, "don't hold it against me if I'm not so happy to see you next time. That hunger of yours is going to come back with a wicked vengeance now. I know. I felt it.

"I don't think anyone around here really appreciates how hard it is for you to hold it back," she shot a nasty glare at Claire. "And now that you've taken an innocent life, no matter how good your intentions were, it's going to start gnawing at you and clawing away under your skin like never before. It's an addiction that isn't going to slip off into some good night if you just refuse to feed it."

Sylar slouched back against the wall and stared at his shoes. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew she was right. It was already bubbling to the surface. He was in a room full of other specials, only one of which would remotely have a chance of stopping him, and he felt hungry.

"Oh, and by the way, you seriously need to get some sleep, dude. And I mean like some heavy drug-induced, non-dreaming kind of sleep. You've dozed off at least three times since I've been awake and that little repeater dream you're having so much trouble with… I'm going to have those images burned into the back of my retinas for a lifetime!"

Claire couldn't be sure since he was standing in a spot of shadow, but she swore she could see a little blush creeping over Sylar's cheeks.

"And you little miss know-it-all!" Christine whirled around on Claire. "Why don't you try climbing down off your high horse sometime and open your eyeballs. And you!" she said pointing a finger at Emma snuggled closely next to a pensive Peter, "Stop thinking so much and just say yes already. You know you're going to," the young girl slipped her a sneaky smile. "And you," she pointed at Peter, "You're a peach. Every girl should have one you hanging around."

"My job here is done," Christine flashed a big grin at everyone in the room and made a dramatic show of brushing her hands off. She sauntered off towards the door of the lab and stopped just before exiting. "Oh, and Mohinder? You really shouldn't leave your chocolate bars in the same fridge as though test tube things. Gives it a funny aftertaste."

And with that she waved goodbye and left the group in wide eyed wonder and darkened stupors.

Multiple phone rings broke the long silence. Sylar and Claire both picked up the message that they were to report to a briefing in twenty minutes.

"Now, wait just a minute. Claire, you just came back from death a few hours ago. You can't just run off to work at a time like this!" Mohinder started to block the duo's exit path.

"Duty calls," Sylar said with a sigh, waving his phone at the geneticist as Claire simply pushed her way past him.

"Relax, Mohinder. They need this," Peter said, tearing himself away from Emma's side long enough to put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.

* * *

"You're late," Noah remarked under his breath as his daughter picked her seat next to him. The gruff man at the podium in the dark auditorium rolled his eyes disdainfully as Sylar jaunted down the aisle to his partner. Charisma huffed with mock exasperation and turned her face from him but managed to sneak a hand onto his thigh when she thought no one was looking.

"What's up with the late call?" Claire asked, practically whispering into Chris's ear.

"This is your target. His name is Jakob Voznesenski," the older man said slapping a remote surveillance picture of a middle aged man dressed in a fine suit and dark sunglasses onto the projector. "He's wanted for just about every sin in the book. His power is kinetic absorption and manipulation. That means that he can absorb just about any kind of energy and turn it into whatever he wants. And _that_ means, no powers until he's been secured, Agent Gray," he looked pointedly at Sylar.

"We don't need to make him any stronger by trying to take him down. He is constantly surrounded by people which makes this even more complicated." The gruff man pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to stifle a yawn.

"Some of you may be wondering why you've been called in so late. The short answer is, because you're the first response team and that's what you do. The long answer is, because we've been after this guy since long before this unit officially existed. He is a top tier target.

"This photo was taken about six hours ago when he resurfaced. We have information that he will be attending a party tomorrow night. It is your job to make contact and figure out how to stop this scumbag before he disappears again."

"Agent Gray," the gruff man said catching up with him as the team was leaving the auditorium, "this target, he's a little to dangerous to be left alive. There isn't a prison today that can hold him. No one in this administration would frown to hard on you if you decided to take the initiative here." He made a crude demonstration of slicing his neck with a finger.

Sylar felt his stomach drop a few inches. Noah eyed him carefully from the door.

* * *

"Stop yawning. It's contagious."

"What? It's not like you can see me doing it."

"I can hear you and that's enough."

"What was that?"

"Is someone snoring?"

"Damn it, Agent Gray. Wake up!"

Claire could hear Charisma grunt a little over the microphone and then swear unintelligibly with a thud and heavy clunking sound in the background. She panned her binoculars over to where Chris was stationed on shutterbug duty and found him laughing hysterically with his lens pointing in the other pair's direction.

"Relax, Jones. We pulled an all-nighter last night, again. No one is in danger if he takes a nap for the next hour or so," Claire barely finished the sentence before another yawn escaped her.

"If you need a break we can probably cover this ourselves, Claire. Surveillance isn't exactly entertaining or life threatening. Wait, hang on. I think I got something over here."

She could see her partner moving along the adjacent roof top attempting to get a better angle.

"Remind me again why I can't just shoot him now so that we can be done with this?"

"The department tends to frown on public executions, Jones."

"This is definitely our guy right here at three o' clock… Wait. My three, your nine."

Before dawn had even come around the team was positioned to watch their target's suspected whereabouts. They had tailed his escort to a quaint little outdoor café and now Claire sat in a beautifully decorative but painfully butt numbing wrought iron chair in an inconspicuous corner just outside the gated area. Chris had positioned himself on the roof across one side street and Charisma and Sylar hunkered down on a terrace across the other way.

"Can you confirm target sighting, Jones?"

"Oh, yeah. That's our guy alright." Claire could hear the delicate sliding of metal as Charisma adjusted her rifle to keep the man in her scope.

"He's sitting down with a couple of other guys. Probably more mobsters. Maybe I'm in the wrong business because I sure as hell can't afford one of those suits."

"I can see him now," Claire focused her binoculars to get a clearer view. "He's giving them something. Two envelopes."

"Probably invitations to that party tonight," Charisma sighed over the microphone.

"Probably. I was hoping we could take him out before then, but if he's going to be doing business there then maybe we can catch some of his clientele while we're at it." Chris hummed. She could practically hear the smile spreading over his face at the thought of a bust that big.

"Infiltrating that place would be next to impossible," Claire half mused to herself thinking about all the security detail they would have to bypass. "For starters we don't have invitations and I doubt they would take us in after the guards disappear. And for another… Anybody here speak Russian? Because I don't."

"Details, Claire. Details." She pictured him smiling again and had to give the boy credit where it was due. His enthusiasm was contagious.

After a heated argument about tactics Charisma agreed to stay behind and keep an eye on Voznesenski while Chris moved on to scope the layout of the area where the party would be taking place. Claire and Sylar returned to headquarters to prepare for the night's mission.

* * *

Noah sat at his desk skimming over the folder of information the team had gathered. Sylar sat in the chair in front of the mahogany desk amusing himself by attempting to find reason in the abstract painting that hung on the wall while he waited for the task manager to give the proper clearance needed.

"You need to be able to speak Russian," Noah muttered under his breath. He drummed his fingers for a moment thinking and then he picked up his phone.

"I need to see Ms. Kane for a moment please," he directed before promptly hanging up.

A few moments later an older woman with bright red hair wound into a tight bun on the top of her head walked into the office. She started when she saw Sylar sitting there but quickly composed herself. Sylar could hear her heart picking up pace.

"I don't believe I need to introduce you two. Ms. Kane here is a linguist. She has the ability to understand any language. You need to get her power if you really want to try this plan, Sylar."

Sylar gave Bennett an incredulous look as he attempted to read the man's motives. It was true that this woman's ability would be most useful, not just for the night ahead but also any future events.

It also became rather clear that this would be a test. To what ends, he couldn't be sure as Noah had become nearly adept as his daughter at keeping mental blocks up in order to thwart any readings. This was temptation at its finest though.

He didn't just need this woman's power. He wanted it. He craved it.

Noah was about to step out the door of his office and leave the two of them alone when Sylar grabbed his arm to stop him.

Images were being conjured in the back of his mind of the red head being slammed against the wall and her blood spraying across the room as her forehead was split open. He could hear her screaming.

"Please, don't make me do this," he pleaded with Bennett. A tightness was closing his throat.

"Relax, Sylar. You can get it empathically, can't you?" His reasoning was solid, but his tone was a taunt that lingered in Sylar's ears long after he had left the room and closed the door behind him.

Kane fidgeted with the hem of her blouse unable to mask her nervousness at the prospect of being alone in the room with him. She knew very well of who he was and what he did with people. He was the Boogie Man to her.

Sylar looked into her fearful eyes and started connecting the dots of what made her tick. He could see the vast array of nerves and synapses firing their tiny jolts of electricity, communicating throughout her brain. He could feel the impulses travel to her spine. Her adrenal glands started producing heavier doses of the fight or flight hormone. A bead of sweat pushed its way through the skin of her brow line.

One tiny misfire. That was all it took. One microscopic little mistake in a cloud of billions of prefect synchronizations and the hunger dug its vicious claws into his gut. Heat flashed throughout his body as the talons raked their way up his spine. The fingers of his left hand started twitching with anticipation.

The woman's eyes widened and she took a step backward. His jaw clenched tight and the muscles of his neck contorted painfully as he willed the monster inside of himself to subside. It was his addiction and it was burning its way through his veins, itching, howling, the way heroin would make its siren's song to call out a street junkie.

_Oh, God. He's going to kill me. _

Sylar threw himself over Bennett's desk for support. He also found his salvation.

A picture of Claire beaming for the camera, all sparkles and sunshine looked back at him. His monster was still there, but his resolve to not give into it was steeled. He pushed the screaming darkness back down under its rock where it belonged these days.

The office door slammed behind him and he could hear Kane's footsteps retreating as fast as possible down the hallway. He picked a book of Russian origin from Noah's shelf and cracked it open with sweaty palms.

He understood every word perfectly.

* * *

Claire stepped out of the elevator on the garage level and wrapped the flimsy shawl around her shoulders. She briefly considered changing to accommodate the chill in the air but remembered the department's espionage expert explaining that in scenario's like this, the best way to avoid drawing attention to one's self was to welcome it.

Her gold tinted dress hugged her every curve with a dull sheen that accented the light bronze tone of her skin. A tear drop diamond necklace sloped down the flattering v-cut. She slipped on a mini ear receiver and attached a molded microphone to her back molar so that they could communicate if necessary while she waited on Sylar.

Matt Parkman stepped out of the elevator next, fumbling with his tie. They both got a laugh out of her trying to fix the tie for him as he installed his own communicators.

"We really appreciate you coming out to help us with this, Matt."

"No problem. I think me and Janice are getting better at dealing with this whole thing. The other day she even thought she was proud of me," he grinned form ear to ear.

"Anyways, she's going to see her mom tonight. You should really come by sometime. I think little Matty misses you."

The elevator dinged one last time and Sylar stepped out. A breath caught in Claire's throat as the dark man approached. He was clean shaven with his hair neatly slicked back and wore a black tailored suit with tasteful silver threaded pin striping. The disguise accentuated the width of his shoulders and tapered waist in a way that made her palms tingle a little.

Sylar stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of her. Control over the function of his eyes got hopelessly lost somewhere between the delicate fabric clinging her thighs and the long tendrils of snowy hair sweeping over her shoulders. Deep ruby red painted her lips and her eyes smoldered at him.

A hunger peeked out from its modest hiding place, both different and not so different from his addiction. He wanted. He craved.

Parkman rolled his eyes and groaned, wishing he could turn off his ability.

_Maybe I should have gone to visit my mother in law._

* * *

"Coms check, one," Claire said holding a finger in ear from the limo seat as they pulled up to their target location.

"Unit Two, check. I'm a go. Moving around the back now," Chris echoed over the receiver.

"Unit Four, check. I'm already in position, locked and loaded," Charisma chimed with a clicking of her sniper rifle in the background.

The valet stepped up to the car and opened the door, lending a hand to Claire as she slid carefully from the low seat, trying to keep her dress from sliding to far up her leg. Sylar and Matt stepped out behind her. She slid her arm under Sylar's flawlessly as they strolled up the red carpet to the velvet rope blocking the door of the warehouse club. Two beefy looking security guards flanked the entrance while another asked for their invitations.

"Nice dress, Claire," Chris whispered over the receiver. She wouldn't be able to see where he was watching from but knew he was near by somewhere spreading his contagious grin.

Charisma made a huffy noise.

Parkman cocked his head to side and pushed his thoughts onto the men.

_You don't see me. The blank papers the man is handing you are invitations. Their names are on list and they belong here. As soon as they go in you're going to forget that you ever saw us._

"Everything seems to be in order here. Welcome to the Hyperion, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlocke," he grumbled. The rope was moved aside and they entered the establishment without a hitch.

_None of you see me. The Whitlockes are supposed to be here._

Matt stationed himself in a dark corner in the back of the noisy floor. Sylar and Claire made their way to the bar area and grabbed drinks while they scanned the room for their target. A band was playing on a stage platform to the side and club lights illuminated the guitarist while others whirled around the room.

A row of tables lined the other wall with couples quietly watching the performance and black couches littered the area Matt was haunting. Claire had a minor flashback to the club Chris had taken her to and her stomach repulsed the memory.

The upbeat tempo of salsa music started and she couldn't help but tap her foot in time.

"I love this song," Claire remarked, taking a sip of her drink.

Sylar lifted himself off of this elbow on the bar and politely extended a hand with just a small smirk hovering over the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't know you could dance," she said as he took her hand and pulled her close to him, bending down to speak into her ear.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know." His low voice rumbled next to her neck.

It suddenly occurred to her that he was absolutely right. There was so much that he knew about her, but aside from the basics that everyone seemed to know, he was an enigma to her.

Sylar led them across the dance floor and swept her into his arms. He twirled her around like some kind of magic fairy princess and displayed an impressive sense of rhythm as she danced around him. They kept pace with one another perfectly through every spin and step. The number ended with both of them heavily breathing as Claire bent into a scandalous dip with one his hands supporting her lower back and the other hiking a leg over his waist.

She snapped back to a standing position and their eyes locked. A smile crept over her features as she thought of two things she knew about Sylar. He was never boring. And he was always a challenge.

Matt let loose a low wolf whistle from somewhere in the shadows which caused her to remember to readjust her dress accordingly.

The lights began to dim and a slow melodic tune was thrummed over the guitar's strings.

"Not so fast," Sylar pulled her back as she made to retreat from the dance floor. He replaced his hand on her lower back and held one of hers next to his chest. Claire gently rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his steady heart beat as they seemed to float in circles around the other pairs.

"My mother."

"What?"

"My mother, Virginia, taught me to dance. Among other things, she was convinced that I could be the next Fred Astaire. She made me practice with her every Sunday night after dinner for years," he explained, reading her thoughts. She could feel him rolling his eyes at the memory but a faint smile was also present. Claire realized that even though Sylar had killed her, he had actually loved his mom. Perhaps his claims that it had been an accident were true.

"Claire?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for what happened the other day in the lab. I didn't mean to upset you that way. I was just looking answers."

"It's okay. I probably wouldn't be very trusting either if things were the other way around." She gripped his back just a little tighter.

He sighed, burning this memory into his mind. For the first time since either could remember they were side by side without pretenses, defenses or fear.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you," he whispered, releasing her hand and lifting her chin so that their eyes met. "If I… If I go bad again and starting hurting people… I want you to be the one to take me down."

"If this is about what Christine said-"

"She was right, Claire. I _can_ control myself, but if I lose it, I just want you to promise me that you'll be the one."

"I'll be the one."

A knot tied itself tight in the bottom of her stomach. She couldn't explain to herself why she felt drawn to him. She wasn't sure she cared just then.

They slowly leaned into one another so that their faces were less than an inch apart. She felt so warm in his arms. Her scent filled his mind with images of laying in some grassy clearing with the summer sunshine on his face. Even with eternity waiting for him, he couldn't make himself believe that he could ever tire of moments like this one.

Subtle shafts of white light glowed from her fingers while tiny blue sparks danced at the tips of his.

Their lips may have grazed if reality hadn't intervened.

"We've got movement at the back," Chris's voice buzzed in their ears.

Both sets of eyes snapped towards the rear exit behind the bar area. Voznesenski was roaming over to the line of tables with two cronies hanging at his side. He stopped to greet a couple sipping wine at one of the tables and slapped the man on the back with a laugh. He continued to stroll towards another table and took a seat, his henchman posting themselves behind him.

The slow song ended and another more upbeat tune began. Sylar twirled Claire around and maneuvered them closer to the target. A tall man joined Voznesenski at the table and they muttered secretly to one another.

"They're talking about the man they're working for. Someone named Kline. He's very powerful," he translated for her. His breath tickled her neck.

"He wants them to find a girl. Miranda. But they're afraid of her."

"Charisma, do a quick search of the department's records. Look for any reference to a Miranda," Claire quietly directed.

"There's no person listed by that name but there's a mission file. What do you mean I don't have the security clearance for this? I've got the highest grade clearance there is," the woman cursed on the other end of communications device. "It's to heavily encrypted. If I had a super computer I could break it… In about a hundred years."

"Weird. What do we have on the guy meeting with Jakob?"

"That is Plovchek. He can find people so they use him as a professional tracker and assassin. He's got a kill order hanging over his profile," Chris piped up.

"We have to get them away from all these people," Sylar whispered in her ear.

"Discretion is good," Claire whispered back into his chest.

"I was thinking more about all the energy they're creating, but yes, discretion is also key. Matt, are you still with us?"

"Yup. Have you guys tried this dip over here? It's great."

"We need you to come help us get these guys outside, away from everybody."

"Gotcha."

_It's to loud to hear in here. You want to take your meeting out back. You have something important and secret to tell Plovchek, so you're going to ask your guards to stay behind. It's only for a minute. Nothing will go wrong in a minute._

The two Russians stood from the table, Voznesenski leaned over to tell his henchmen to stay behind and they exited through the back door he had come through earlier. Sylar, Claire and Matt followed as quickly as the crowd's suspicion would allow.

"I've got a clear shot on Plovchek. Tell me when you're ready," Charisma buzzed.

"Wait, we don't want anyone to hear the shots," Claire murmured, glancing around at all the people walking along the neighboring streets past the alleyway they had entered.

"Do you think I'm new at this, Agent Bennett? I've got the best silencer that federal funding can buy. They'll never hear it coming," she scoffed.

Claire imagined being between the older woman's crosshairs and the sadistic grin that would paint her face after she pulled the trigger and waited to see if she could piece her torso back together. Surely it was just the cold night's air that made her shiver.

"Parkman, this is your time to shine, buddy," Sylar said slapping him on the back.

Matt rolled his eyes and stepped out from the doorway, focusing on the primary target.

_You are a solid block of ice. You're not going to move a muscle until I say otherwise._

"You're a go, Charisma," Sylar motioned with a wave of his hand.

She was right. You really couldn't hear it coming. One minute Plovchek was standing there talking to his acquaintance, and the next he was on the ground missing an impressively large piece of his skull.

"Who's Mr. Kline?" Chris demanded, jaunting out of the darkness with his pistol raised at Voznesenski's head. His normally happy face was now dark and contorted. There was a madness in his eyes that reminded Claire of Sylar when he went into psycho stalker killing mode.

_Answer the question._

The man gibbered something in Russian.

"He doesn't know. That's just the name that his contact used," Sylar translated.

"Liar!" Chris was starting to scare her a little bit. Something was very, very wrong here.

"McKinley, what's your damage man?"

"Shut up!" Chris waved his gun in Matt's direction. Claire subconsciously grabbed Sylar's hand and he moved to where he was partly in front of her. He raised a single finger and sent the boy's pistol flying out of his grip. It disintegrated into pieces in the air.

"No!" Chris charged at Sylar. He didn't make it very far before his feet were frozen in place.

_You're feeling very sleepy now. Nighty night, McKinley._

He fell backwards with a dull thud.

"Who's Miranda?" Sylar had turned his attention back to the target still in play.

"The most powerful being to ever walk this earth. She is like a god," the Russian answered with a cracked giggle.

"Why haven't I heard of her?"

"You wouldn't, would you? She hasn't even been born yet." The man burst into hysterics like he was possessed or on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Sylar searched his mind and knew that this was all he would get from Jakob. He finished the mission as he had been instructed. Voznesenski's neck twisted with a sickening snap. The man fell to the ground with a deranged smile on his face.

Both of the bodies were flash burned for disposal while Matt hefted Chris's unconscious body into the waiting van. Claire touched Sylar's arm as they headed for the vehicle, but when he turned to look at her, she quickly shied away again.

Only minutes before they had been on a dance floor as he looked at her with eyes like molten butterscotch. Now they were in a cold alleyway and those eyes that had sparkled at her were turned to blackened stone.


	9. Chapter 9

I split this chapter into two to prevent an eye bleeding wall of text, but here's the moment I know at least a few of you have been waiting for. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

_I can almost feel it slipping from me. Reality. I've tried so hard to stay on the right side of wrong. But maybe I don't really belong there. They still only see me as a killer. Someone to use. Someone to do their dirty work. _

_A murderer._

_It's not a lie. I am what I am and it doesn't seem to matter how much I do. None of it will ever be enough to tip this great cosmic balance back to my favor. Does my soul even still belong to me really? If such a thing exists._

_I can see them all. Every face matches a life I've taken. I don't know all of their names, but the faces are clear. They haunt me. _

_Not all of them screamed. Only a few made it far enough to run. Some never even had the opportunity to bleed for me._

_What a spectacular predator I am._

_I know why I did it back then. I blamed it on the hunger, but as much as it churns inside of me, crawling just under my skin like the itch you just can't scratch, it was never the whole truth. I killed because I enjoyed it. _

_There's an indescribable high that comes with knowing you can end another person's existence. Wipe them away like they were never here at all. It makes you the superior machine. _

_I always wanted to understand where they went. You can tell when they leave. One second they're there. In the next second they're not. I watched so closely but I could never catch the exact point in time that life left their eyes. Where _do_ they go?_

_I'm afraid. Afraid of myself. Afraid for her. Afraid that I'm going to lose control and _want_ to kill again. Afraid that I might start enjoying it again._

Sylar calculated to himself that he had been laying there, staring up at the water stain on his ceiling for four hours, twenty six minutes and thirty five seconds. Thirty six. Thirty seven. Thirty eight. He rose to his feet from the pitiful air mattress on the floor of the barren room and padded his way to the bathroom.

He positioned himself in front of the mirror, hands tensely gripping the sink, knuckles white, eyes shut so tightly that spots had started to float behind his eyelids. He flipped on the dingy light, took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

_One… Two… Three…_

Three seconds. He could only stand the sight of himself for three seconds before his fist collided with the cracked mirror. The shards clattered and clinked into the sink.

_Am I an angel or a monster? Am I a hero or a villain? Why can't I see the difference anymore?_

He held up his fist, knuckles still white, and watched studiously as the glass fragments were pushed from his healing flesh. He paced slowly a few times and returned to sit on the corner of his bed. His fingers traced the outlines of Claire's face on his arm.

_Gabriel, she likes to call me. Like the angel. The angel of death._

* * *

"Gabriel?" she called out into the darkness.

"Gabriel?" Her breath froze in the air in front of her.

Claire was stumbling through the woods, tripping over fallen debris and scraping her hands and knees as she struggled to continue her journey. Thick fog curled and twisted around her silently. The icy mist chilled her to the bone.

She couldn't escape the calling. Even though she was alone and terrified, turning in circles, hopelessly lost, she had to find him. He needed her.

The tree line gave way to a small clearing. Up ahead she could just make out his form, silhouetted in the moonlight. A pond covered in a thin layer of ice was separating them. She stepped out onto the ice, gently tip toeing at first and slowly breaking into a sprint. He was so close, but the ice began to crack.

Claire pushed herself harder to make it across frozen waters. A few steps from her destination it all gave way under her. She was plunged into the frigid black, spinning and swirling in the deep currents. Her lungs were on fire and she could feel herself sinking to the bottom.

Strong hands wrapped around hers, fingers intertwining, saving her from the crushing depths.

There he was, eyes like molten butterscotch. As his arms pulled her closer she noticed the dried blood coating his hands and the butchered bodies strewn about the ground. She stood fast in his embrace as an invisible blade cut deep into the flesh of the arms holding her. Gaping wounds read _I Am Sylar_ over every inch.

Noah was there. They were all there, reaching for her and calling to her to get away from the monster. She tried to explain to them that he needed her. She had to be there for him.

Claire turned to face him. His eyes had changed to that color like cold stone, but as the fear crept through her, she realized that she was not afraid of him or the things he had done. She was afraid _for_ him.

Claire sat straight up in bed from her dead sleep. Sweat covered her face and neck. There was a sharp pain in her chest.

* * *

"How is he?" Claire asked her father as she sidled up next to him. Noah was watching over Chris from the window of the recovery room. Agents were asked to stay in those quarters after work related incidents that required quarantine or observation for medical and mental health issues.

Her partner was strapped into a hard white bed, fast asleep. He looked so much more peaceful than he had the night before during his episode.

"He'll be fine. Reports and possible medication aside, he'll be just fine, Claire Bear." Noah smiled at her with his best reassuring dad smile and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Do they know what happened him to yet? Why he… reacted the way he did?"

Bennett's features relaxed into a very somber expression.

"Did he ever tell you what happened to his partner before you?"

"No. I just thought he got promoted after Mitchells retired."

Claire remembered how her first partner had ambitiously struck after a jumper they were chasing ahead of the team. He was young and inexperienced despite what her supervisors had proclaimed. He always seemed to have something to prove. Mitchells ended up falling from a fifth story window onto a parked car after attempting to dive tackle the target. She had offered to heal him of course, but he opted for the payouts and benefits package his injuries awarded him. His ego had probably been bruised for a lifetime.

"Agent McKinley's first partner was killed in the line of duty. They were on assignment to bring down a hostile who turned out to be working for someone named Kline. They walked right into an ambush. He was lucky to make it out alive but he blamed himself.

"Chris is an outstanding agent. The department didn't really want to lose his services when he was willing to go on, but with his… protective instincts and mortality issues that came from his partner's death, they decided it would be best to pair him with someone less fragile."

"And that was me."

"It was a win, win situation. You got a more reliable partner and he would never have to go through something that traumatic again as long as he stayed with you. When he heard Kline's name come up last night, he snapped. Chris admitted that he was seeking out vengeance instead of keeping the mission in mind.

"The department will probably want to get him into a therapy program and on some medication to help him cope with his unresolved issues. But so far we don't see any reason to keep him away from active duty. A few days rest and everything will be fine," Noah smiled at her again but she knew him well enough to sense insincerity. He was worried for the young agent. Claire marveled at how attached he had gotten.

"Hey there, Ms. Bennett. Got an extra special something for you today," Eddie the mail clerk rolled up to them with his cart. He handed her a decorative vase filled to the brim with a flamboyant bouquet of flowers. "Mr. Petrelli actually wanted these delivered yesterday but since you were gone all afternoon we kept them in storage where they'd stay nice and cool for ya."

"Peter sent you flowers?" Noah quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, no. It was that nice Mr. Nathan. He even tipped me twenty dollars to take care of them. Such a nice man," Eddie beamed as he strolled along down the hall.

Claire and Noah exchanged worried glances. She dug through the arrangement for a card. The envelope simply read _Claire Bennett, D.S.R.E.C._ A note tucked inside however:

_Round three begins with a biblical sin. It becomes your turn to search for kin. Like father, like son, their hunger is my fun._

"Claire, what is going on here? What is that supposed to mean?" Noah bore his eyes into her. She had carefully neglected to tell him about their Riddler's game. At first she had just thought he had enough to worry about without an extra load to bare. Now she had just wanted to make sure this wasn't another experiment that he was behind.

As much as Claire loved her father, trust was an issue.

"Claire?" he called after her as she handed him the vase and ran down the hall towards the department proper.

"Claire!"

* * *

Sylar wasn't in his office. He wasn't in the lab being tested. He wasn't in the training facility. He wasn't anywhere he _really_ belonged.

He had to prove to himself that somewhere deep inside he was still human. How better to explore such a feeling than to return to that time before the powers had called to him. Before Sylar. He tried as best as he could anyways.

Sylar pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose as he paused to examine the parts laid out on the table before him. He thought about the dial that would fit perfectly into the position he was looking at and it began to float towards him. When he absent mindedly reached out for the part he realized what he was doing and dropped it with a clink that would have been inaudible for normal human ears.

Before he could know what he was doing the work table was flipping through the air. Spare parts scattered through the shop.

"Sylar?"

The voice caught him off guard. It was a honey sweet contrast to his own dark mutterings. He turned to see Claire standing just inside the threshold with the door still open behind her. Her form was silhouetted in the bright sunlight as the gentle rays gleamed over her white hair. She looked like an angel to him.

"What are you doing?" Her question was muted but he could still hear it with perfect clarity. Her beautiful face was painted with concern as she cautiously approached.

"How did you find me here?" he stammered. As far as he knew she had never been to the little watch shop and he hadn't told anyone where he was.

"I don't really know. I just needed to find you and I came here."

Sylar couldn't restrain himself. He ran to her and grabbed her up in his arms, holding tight so that the figment of his dreams couldn't fade away.

But she was real.

Claire was really there, holding him without reservation. Her hands were so warm on his back he thought a fire could spark to life anywhere she touched him. He could feel all of the turmoil inside him boil away and evaporate with her embrace. She smelled like the summer sun that adored her so much.

He was sinking into her, clutching her tiny frame so close. She landed with a rough grunt as he pulled her down with him when his knees gave out.

The world could have blown apart in a nuclear holocaust that moment and Claire would never have noticed. His molten eyes should have physically burnt her the way he looked at her. He was drinking in every feature of her face, taking in all of her with a warmth and gratitude that went beyond the world. There was a tinge of primal lust written in those eyes, but it was the stronger emotion that held her captivated. She had known it was there, lurking around in some dark recess of his mind but had never seen it so brilliantly displayed as right now.

He loved her.

Despite everything that they had been through. Everything that _he_ had put her through, she could feel something changing inside of her. A volcano was violently erupting, ripping apart the heavily armored walls she surrounded herself with and melting them away. The way the earth is shifted and reforged into new spectacular patterns, so was she.

His hands were on her face, pulling her even closer to him though simple science might have thought such a proximity impossible. His lips were on hers, burning, white hot.

They were completely oblivious as random objects began to fly around the room. Lightning crackled through the air in a miniature ion storm. The darkness of the quiet shop was lifted by shimmering light pouring off of Claire. Her fingers were glowing as she tangled them into his hair.

The molten layers of her heart cooled, sealing back together with a screaming hiss.

Pulling back from the kiss, it was another long minute of staring into those eyes before either of them remembered how to breathe. It wasn't until debris started falling from the air around them that the gaze was broken. There was a burning smell. The vicinity encompassing them had caught fire and now the ashes smoldered in a circular pattern.

_And I thought seeing fireworks was supposed to be a big deal._

They locked serious eyes again for a second before bursting into unrestrained laughter about the thought.

* * *

"Round three begins with a biblical sin. It becomes your turn to search for kin. Like father, like son, their hunger is my fun." Sylar looked down on the note Claire had received with disgust. Hate wasn't even the word for what he was feeling towards their menace.

"I thought that since it referenced hunger that maybe you would know what it meant." Claire rearranged her hair in the glass reflection of a tall grandfather clock. Something was off. They were in Sylar's haunt of a watch shop surrounded by clocks of various models and size, but it was silent.

"I think I know who to look for," he mumbled with a resigned sigh. He loathed the idea of having to take her to see _him_.

"Sylar, have you noticed that it's quiet in here?"

He stopped and listened. She was right. There was a distinct lack of the familiar ticks and tocks that had littered the place before. Glancing around the partially destroyed floor he also noted that the time pieces were no longer keeping their time. All of the tiny hands seemed to have randomly spun themselves around and stopped.

"Weird," she whispered, tapping on the glass of the clock she was facing. "So, who are we out to get this time?"

Her face was so serious. She got a little annoyed when he started laughing again. Apparently there was some static leftover in the musty air because even though she had smoothed down what she could see in the glass, Sylar was personally tickled by the strands floating around of their own accord in the back. He moved to remedy the situation and blush filled her cheeks as she realized what the joke was.

He tossed her a pair of shades as he headed for the door.

"What are these for?"

"You like flying, don't you?"

She was torn between curiosity, panic and a jolt of glee. He chuckled to himself reading her ever fluctuating expressions.


	10. Chapter 10

The hunger. It drives me. The review monster is never sated.

At the time that I wrote this chapter I had completely forgotten about Micah's stint as Rebel so please forgive the little brain glitch there.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Claire enjoyed the feeling of the cool breeze whipping through her hair as she clung to Sylar's back. They zipped between buildings and dipped and dodged through traffic and then he had pushed himself nearly into the mesosphere when she asked how high he could go. He was now keeping her arms securely fastened around his neck after an impish attempt to dive off purposefully.

She squealed with delight when he did a few barrel rolls for kicks.

"New Jersey?" she asked incredulously as he landed and dropped her to her feet. "Who are we looking for in New Jersey?"

"Samson," he said as he repressed a bubble of loathing. She continued to eye him quizzically.

"My father."

Claire wasn't entirely sure how to react to this news. Sylar paused a few feet ahead waiting for her with an extended hand. The only time he had ever mentioned anything about his father Claire had gotten the impression that the man had a great deal to do with Sylar's problems. She had imagined him as being incredibly violent, cold and evil. Judging by the look on her companion's face now, that was probably an accurate assumption.

She hesitated but decided that it would be necessary to move on. She took his hand and he wrapped his fingers through hers. His stance and manner suggested protection, but Claire could feel in his touch how much more he needed this contact than she did. She gave him a little squeeze for a signal that everything would be okay.

The house they approached was little more than a shack. A very gray shack at that. The siding was falling apart, the steps were cracked and at least one window was visibly broken. As they walked up to the door she could see that it was slightly ajar. It creaked when Sylar pushed it the rest of the way open and the sudden noise caused a flock of black birds to flutter out from the dead tree in the yard.

If Claire thought the outside of the home was gray, it was nothing compared to the inside. Everything seemed to be surrounded in a kind of smoky haze. Floor boards groaned under their weight in a way that made her imagine they could fall through any second. Dust was covering all available surfaces and cob webs haunted virtually every corner. Stacks of books and various trinkets and parts littered the place. The smell of death hung heavily in the musty air.

A string was hanging down from the ceiling fan in the front room with a note attached.

_Father Gray lost his way, one to many butts he led from the tray. To bad he lost his temper, now he resides in the clothing hamper._

"That's not disturbing or anything," Claire whispered as she read the message.

Sylar broke the hold on her hand and marched off towards a side room. She almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. He shoved a door open and the stench hit her like a brick wall. Flies buzzed angrily around the room and several species of scavenger bugs crowded around the base of ragged blue laundry basket. Some unidentifiable fluid stained the bottom of it and leaked out onto the floor.

He put his hand out to motion her to stay there and opened the lid of the basket. His arm immediately shot up to hook around his face. The crook of his elbow safe guarded his nose and probably helped to suppress a gag. He reached down into the hamper and retrieved a slim file.

They left the house as fast as the laws of physics would allow. Outside in the yard Sylar heaved a few times and coughed hard enough to cause more black birds to scatter into the wind. The look on his was pained. Not the kind of pain you would expect from the ailing effects of such a grotesque sight, but the kind of pain that comes from unexpected tragedy.

Claire automatically moved to his side. She couldn't remove the harshness from reality but she could do her best to soften the blow. For the second time that day the world was kept from crumbling apart by the strength of their embrace. She stroked her fingers through his hair as his low voice rumbled next to her neck.

"I imagined killing him so many times. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to die. But seeing it like that… They tore his body apart and left his head on top of the pile just waiting to look at me. And it was cut in half… Why did they want us to see that?"

There was no telling how long they stood there like that. When he finally let go of her, his face was a blank slate.

Claire looked inside the file he had fished out from the body. There was an address and a picture of a boy that seemed strangely familiar, like maybe she had seen him once before.

_To seek the gods is divine, but for this mission you need an electronic mind. _

_

* * *

_

Noah Bennett made his way down the narrow stairwell to the department's basement storage facility. He flipped a switch and florescent lights burst into life, illuminating the stacks of precognitive paintings that were kept on hand.

He was reflecting to himself on the strange behavior of his daughter this morning as he strolled down a row of shelving. Deep down he had known that there were still some unresolved trust issues between them. It had been like that for the last few years. Claire had never been able to completely rekindle her heroic views of him after all the revelations of his working life, but he had thought that since they were now working together to help the good specials and stop the bad that they were starting to make progress at bonding again.

Noah had at least thought that all the secrets were behind them. He had felt more than a little hurt when he realized that she had been hiding something from him.

Knowing that the Nathan Petrelli impersonator was still at large was bad enough. Finding out that he had been communicating in cryptic messages with his sweet Claire was just down right disturbing. What did the deranged mimic want with her?

He was still half wondering if maybe his suspicions about Sylar were correct. Who else would be able to take that form? Who else would be sick enough to do it if they could?

Noah had been very well aware of the killer's psychotic fascination with his daughter when he was still openly evil. Seeing it continue now as they were assigned to work together left a sour taste in his mouth that he couldn't shake.

He found the stack of paintings he was looking for and started pulling them, lining them up one by one against the shelving. It was a series of nine.

The first one depicted a faceless man standing over the body of an older man wearing an oxygen mask with balled up fists. The second showed Claire being stabbed in the neck with a syringe as she struggled against a hand holding her jaw. The third showed Peter laying in a bed with Claire holding his hand. In the fourth Sylar was standing over a dead bloody girl holding a vial of some kind. The fifth showed Claire and Sylar holding one another, kissing, with white and dark blue auras around them blending together making the symbol that meant 'God send' in Japanese. The sixth featured Claire with a pained look on her face as she held a gun in Noah's direction. The seventh showed Sylar kneeling over Claire with a long bloody gash across her forehead. In the eighth a shadowy Nathan Petrelli. And in the final painting a tall willowy girl with black hair and hauntingly blue eyes stood in a white dress, holding a blood caked katana looking off to the distance somewhere.

Bennett didn't even bother putting the upsetting art work away. He marched to his daughter's office and began ransacking through her things looking for any kind of evidence that would lend proof to what he had seen. A broken snow globe sat in her bottom desk drawer with a set of figurines next to it. The models depicted the same scene as the painting of her pointing a gun at him. He grabbed them and ran across the department campus to the main administrative office. If Claire told anyone about any of the things going on in her personal life, it would certainly be her dear uncle Peter.

Peter Petrelli nearly jumped out of his skin when Noah barged through his doors.

"I need to call you back," he said quickly hanging up the phone. "Noah," he nodded politely.

"Do you know anything about this?" he demanded, slamming the figures down on Petrelli's desk.

Peter leaned back in his chair with heavy sigh and ran his hands down his face in exasperation. "Yes," he answered. "Somebody's been running around leaving clues for us to follow. I thought the trail had run cold after the Shanti virus thing."

"What Shanti virus _thing_?" He could feel the rage growing exponentially inside of him.

Peter seemed only slightly surprised at how much had escaped Bennett's knowledge so he began to relay the entire story from start to finish.

"Did you know about the flowers this morning?"

"Flowers?" Peter asked in confusion.

"She got a vase of flowers this morning from your dearly departed brother. There was some kind of card that came with them. It said something about sin and her turn." Noah was gesturing wildly with his hands, conveying his frustrations.

Petrelli's eyes grew wide and he picked up his phone, dialing a number and hanging up after a few rings several times. "Yeah, I need a team to find Claire Bennett... Yes, it's an emergency... I don't care how strained for people you are, find her, now!" He violently hung up the phone, nearly knocking it from the edge of his crowded desk. "Both Claire and Sylar are missing. No one has seen Claire since this morning and Sylar was supposed to be in the lab first thing today. Suresh said he never showed."

Noah could feel his gut twisting with more than dread.

* * *

The flight to New Orleans had been significantly less fun. Sylar was lost to brooding thoughts and the waves of tension rolling off of him ate away at her stomach. Even though they had made excellent time Claire's fingers had severely cramped. By the time they landed it was a struggle to unclench them from her dark companion's neck.

A large mansion spilled out before them on a beautiful hilltop setting that overlooked the city proper. Statues of a tall, lithe and strong looking woman with long willowy hair greeted them as they approached the elaborate estate. An elderly woman answered the door.

"Hello ma'am. My name is Claire Bennett and I'm looking for Micah Sanders. Is he home?" The woman happily invited them inside and quickly shuffled off, calling for Micah.

Off in a side room an energetic younger female dressed in a black athletic suit was doing a steady progression of exercises ranging from throwing knives at a target to balancing on one hand over a thin wooden beam.

"A muscle mimic. I'd like to see how that works," Sylar remarked in a particularly dark flavor of wonder.

"Saint Joan," Claire mumbled with a smile remembering the old graphic novel cover. Sylar looked at her curiously.

"She was a character featured in the 9th Wonders comic." He gave her a slightly surprised if not impressed expression. "What? I worked in a comic book store for a while," she laughed.

"Illustrated by Isaac Mendez," he said darkly.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Sylar picked a spot on the floor as far away from her gaze as possible to stare at and jammed his hands in his pockets with a faint sigh.

"Oh," she muttered under her breath when she got the idea.

"I thought you were dead. What are you doing here?"

A young boy, barely out of school, Claire guessed, descended the stair case staring openly at Sylar. His face was filled with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

"Do I know you?" Sylar asked cocking his head to the side a little as he read the boy.

"The last time I saw you, my mom was hitting you over the head with a parking meter in Kirby Square."

They finally made the connection as to why he looked so familiar. They hadn't actually met, but his family had been involved in the events of the near catastrophe when New York almost went nuclear. Claire and Sylar looked at one another with their own uneasiness.

"Um, well… Long story, short, he's reformed and working for the good guys now. And we need your help," Claire dug her department badge out of her back pocket and handed it to him. Micah took a long withering look at Sylar but nodded in acceptance.

"What do you guys need from me?"

"I think we need you to help us crack the encryption code on a computer file," Sylar said with understanding glinting in his eyes.

"How did you know that?"

"To seek the gods is divine, but for this you need an electronic mind. Remember what the Russian said and what Jones found? I've got a feeling that this kid is our electronic mind…"

"Um, the kid, is still here," Micah said pointing to himself, "I don't know anything about a Russian but I'm guessing that you're looking for Miranda if you came to see me."

Looks of anxious inquisition were exchanged between them all. Sanders led the duo up the stairs into a spacious office filled with computers. He sat down in the chair in front of an expensive looking laptop and placed a hand on the keyboard. Windows started popping up on the screen at an incredible pace. The boy mentally punched in a few numbers and the mysterious file that Agent Jones had claimed would take a super computer one hundred years to crack, was opened before them in less than a minute.

"Wow, you're really good," Claire beamed.

"I hope so. I'm the one the government hired to write the program." He smiled back.

Micah loaded the information they needed onto a flash drive and handed it to Claire.

"Do you know what's on here?" Sylar asked, telekinetically snatching it away from her to be examined.

"Nope. The D.S.R.E.C. were paying me a lot of money not to ask questions. I just wrote the code. Anything it was protecting was added after that."

"How much did they pay you?"

Micah just grinned from ear to ear and gestured with both arms for them to infer that it had been enough for everything they saw before them and probably more.

* * *

It was just after midnight when Sylar and Claire drifted over the landing pad of the department's facility. He landed gracefully and reluctantly helped Claire disentangle herself from him. Sylar smiled down on her as he tucked a rogue lock of hair behind her ear.

"So, I guess it's true what they say." The voiced startled them both. Chris stepped out from behind one of the helicopters. "You really do have a thing for the guys that can fly, don't you Claire?"

Sylar shifted aggressively and was about to open his mouth when she stopped him.

"I need to talk to him… Alone," she said low enough that only he could hear. Claire knew that Sylar wouldn't want to leave her side but she gave him her most imploring look. "I'll see you tomorrow." He glared at the other agent but nodded in acceptance and launched himself back into the sky.

"It's good to see that you're out so soon," she awkwardly started.

"Yeah, real great," he muttered, kicking at the asphalt. She wanted to say something that would explain the situation he had seen in a way that wouldn't hurt him anymore, but nothing was coming to mind.

"You know… I kinda knew that you were really thinking about him when you were kissing me. I didn't want to believe it though. I like you, Claire. A lot. And I thought that maybe someday…" The sadness in his voice and downtrodden look on his face made her feel like she had just kicked a puppy. An adorable, trustworthy, fun loving, brown eyed puppy.

"Chris…"

"No, it's okay, Claire," he waved her off and started to walk away. She was about to run after him when he stopped and turned. "It's okay because I can wait. Maybe someday it _will _be me that you think about. If that day comes, I'll still be here." He flickered his contagious grin at her and continued to depart.

* * *

Sylar had a little kick to his step as he strolled through his doorway. But it was all quickly ruined with a bad case of déjà vu. Someone pushed him up against the wall and heated lips found their way to his neck.

This time he pushed back. Charisma was standing there when he flipped on the light switch.

"What's wrong, baby? To tired tonight?" she asked as she stepped forward again and wrapped her arms around his neck. When she moved in for a kiss he blocked her by putting a hand over his mouth. He removed her hands from his personal space and pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the door, telling her with the universal body language to get lost.

Jones was more than a little dismayed. They had spent nearly every night together since their first encounter.

"What is your problem?" she hissed at him. Sylar didn't think she had ever been rejected before and it was making her furious.

"Obviously, it's you right now. Vacate." When she put her hands on her hips and made that little huffing sound of hers, he rolled his eyes and started to walk away, leaving the door wide open for her.

"I see. You finally got a piece from that skank and now I'm not good enough. Is that it?" She spat each word at him with extreme toxicity. Her antagonistic turn only served to infuriate him. Sylar turned on his partner and mentally pushed her against the wall. He got directly in her face and stuck his finger in her chest for extra emphasis.

"I'm going to speak very slowly now so that you can understand. I do not _want_ you. I never wanted you. I'm never going to want you. Ever. I don't even like you. Now get out and do not come back."

He let her down from the wall and gestured to the door again. "Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out," he called over his shoulder as he made his way to his bedroom.

Jones was outraged to the point of tears. She grabbed her jacket from the rickety table and dashed for the exit. At the last second she thought better and stopped, turning towards his retreating back.

She pulled a revolver from her jacket pocket and aimed at the back of his head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Claire clicked the little flash drive that Micah Sanders had given her into place on her computer. She took a deep breath and double tapped her mouse over the file to open it.

_Operation Miranda is now in progress:_

_It seems that hard science alone will not solve the enigma of her for us. We have discovered that the presence of the catalyst is needed for her creation. Our review board members have poured over thousands of files for nearly ten years and believe that we have finally found two suitable test subjects for the Miranda project. _

_When Arthur Petrelli was determined to have held the source of the catalyst and was subsequently killed, we feared that the operation would become impossible to complete. However, the catalyst has been revealed to have surfaced again in one of our subjects. _

_Here is our data collected so far as well as extensive performance reviews for the combatant targets you have requested._

Claire forgot how to breathe again for a few minutes as she flipped through the documents on her screen. All the data they had mentioned collecting seemed to revolve around her and Sylar.

Reports on all of their regulation testing, blood work, ability analysis, in depth reviews of every hostile they had been assigned to take down, the experiment with Brandon Miller, all of their history dating back to each of their births were recorded here. A collection of surveillance photos of her and Sylar together were attached. Every minute of their interactions from the work related to the personal were being watched.

A lab report from Suresh caught her attention. It was from the day that Sylar had made her join him in the observation room so that he could prod her for information. Most of the graphs and technical jargon didn't mean anything to her, but the picture of them together did.

Mohinder had captured a photograph of them as they struggled against one another on the floor. But it wasn't just a normal picture. The machine he had used was purposed for identifying energy sources and fields. Surrounding Claire on the floor was a bright burst of intense white light and a cloud of dark blue light was emanating from Sylar. Where they touched, the energies combined to create an anomaly of some kind. Suresh had noted that the power generated by the two being in one another's personal space alone had been enough to produce electricity for half of New York, but when they touched, it had magnified to an astronomical value bordering a refined process of cold fusion.

Below his notes, Mohinder had tagged the picture as the moment Sylar remembered telling her that he loved her before. Further attachments included brain scans he had taken during their testing. The highlighted areas were supposed to represent their emotional status regarding one another as well as the physiological responses that occurred from their joint presence.

"Claire, where the hell have you been?" Noah demanded with a flushed face.

She quickly shut her lap top and tried to give a weak and sheepish smile. Her father stomped up to her desk and laid his clenched fists on either side of her computer.

"I don't know what is going on here, but it has to stop. You can't just run off anytime you feel like it. We have a serious business going on here that you're a part of whether you like it or not now. And I really do not appreciate being left in dark about this Nathan Petrelli business."

She shuddered at the thought of the psychopathic impersonator.

"I had to go to Peter yesterday to learn anything about it," he picked the figurines from her snow globe out of his pocket and set them down on the top of her computer. "From now on, you can consider yourself grounded from active duty. Until this maniac is taken into custody neither you or your team will be completing anymore objectives."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Claire. You've already nearly been killed thanks to a Shanti virus exposure and Peter seems pretty sure that this guy was the source of it. I will not have you or anyone else in the unit put in danger like that!"

He was still angry, but his features had also become solemn. A pang of guilt for the pain she had caused him with secrets wracked her gut. Claire got up from her chair and joined her father in a tight hug.

"You saw what he did to the secondary team, dad. He was outnumbered nine to one by some of the best agents the department had and he destroyed them. I want to tell you that everything will be okay and that I'll stay safe and be your good little Claire Bear, but I can't leave this case alone. We're the only ones that can stop him."

Noah let out a resigned sigh and let go of his daughter.

"I know." They both shuffled their feet a little bit. "Just promise me one thing," he pointed his finger sternly, "no more secrets."

Claire smiled and tried not to look in the direction of her computer.

"You got it," she said going in for another hug. Her father smiled back and left the office.

* * *

Matt Parkman whistled as he strolled into his office. He peeked into the little brown bag that Janice had prepared for his lunch and found a magnificent spectacle of a pastrami sandwich with not one, but two of his favorite flavor of pudding cup. The urge to skip a little bit had to be suppressed. He loved that woman.

Opening the door he noticed a slim brown envelope sitting on his computer keyboard. Matt dropped his lunch off on the corner of his desk and ripped open the letter. A small silver key slid from the package along with a note reading:

_Matters of importance lurk unseen, capture the enemy with evidence unclean._

An address followed beneath the cryptic message.

* * *

"Morning Dr. Suresh," Eddie the mail clerk chimed. "Got a few letters for you today. Looks mighty important!"

He was always such a kind and happy man, but Mohinder always got the impression that maybe his memory had been erased one to many times and parts of it had stopped coming back.

"Thank you, Eddie," he said nodding politely and taking his mail. He thumbed through a few acquisition forms and an analytical study he had requested from the botany department for his research with a curious young man that grew exotic botanical life everywhere he walked. Mohinder looked over his shoulder and sighed again at the sight of a bed of Dionaea muscipula that had sprung from the concrete floor of the observation room.

A brown envelope slipped from the bottom of the stack and flittered to the surface of his desk. Normally he was busy enough that he may not have even given the simple parcel a second thought, but the odd lack of any form of address caught his attention.

Mohinder slid the blade edge of his stationary opener along the crease and plucked a small silver key from the envelope. A mysterious message accompanied the key reading:

_You see inside the soul with your twisted science, but guilty is as guilty does in this dark alliance._

He studiously examined the rhyme attempting to make sense of the it. An address also followed.

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sylar's eyelids fluttered a little as he was coming to consciousness. There was something moist dripping on his forehead. He rolled over with a deep groan imagining the leaky ceiling that he had thought of as a sadistic kind of Chinese water torture on so many rainy days before.

Why did his head hurt so much? A searing pain threatened to split his skull in half as it throbbed from the back of his neck upwards.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

More droplets splattered over his shoulder.

_I wonder if I could get away with slaughtering my super_. He pulled his sheet a little higher. It was soaked and cold.

_Damn it._ Sylar rolled over again and opened his eyes, meeting another pair blankly staring back at him. His heart skipped a beat.

Above him was Charisma Jones, crucified to his ceiling with a mass of random objects protruding from her body. Her eyes were glazed over and cold. She had been dead for several hours that way.

The dark man leapt from his bed. Her blood had soaked through most of the dingy white sheets and stained the floor area around his air mattress.

Sylar desperately tried to remember what had happened. He recalled last night, coming home and telling her to get out of his apartment. He remembered yelling at his partner pretty viciously but he hadn't wanted to physically hurt her.

_What have I done?_

He rummaged around for his company phone and punched in a number. It rang once and went straight to voice mail.

"Claire, I need you. I think I've done something really bad."

* * *

_Forgive the somewhat lack of empirical data to support our findings, but we believe the catalyst in itself to be the essence of pure light, a sort of fifth element so to speak. While we have documentation that cites several instances where the catalyst was purposefully passed on from one keeper to another, as philosophical as it may seem, we also believe that the catalyst somehow chooses for itself to whom it may belong. _

_One chosen person for each generation acts as a guardian for this light. With the appearance of Miranda however, this cycle seems to have broken. The effects of such a fundamental change will be closely watched in the future._

A gentle knock at her door removed Claire from her reverie and she quickly closed her computer again.

"Hey, Claire, you got a minute?" Peter poked his head through the door. She didn't exactly welcome his presence just then, but she didn't deny it either. "You're not answering your phone," he said taking a seat in front of her desk.

"I've already been chewed out once this morning and if I remember correctly O.S.H.A. standards say I can only have one person riding my ass at a time."

Her uncle nodded and smiled a little despite the harsh tone she had used with him.

"Noah was pretty worried about you. I guess I wasn't really all that surprised that you were keeping this whole thing from him though. I told him everything because I thought he deserved to know. He's your father, Claire. He loves you and just wants to see you safe."

"How much control do you have over the missions we're sent out on?" Claire had picked a spot in the corner of her ceiling over his head to space herself into.

"Um, I have to review case files and sign off on them but it's mostly filtered down through the F.B.I. and Homeland Security. Why?"

Claire hesitated without saying anything for a long minute before deciding to show him what she had found. She opened her lap top again and clicked on the file that included all of their combat reviews as well as an ongoing list of targets. Spinning the computer around so that he could read the listings she watched as his face contorted with nearly every emotion a man has the capacity to express.

"Where did you find this?" he finally demanded after lifting his head from his hands.

"That's not important. What is important is the fact that we're being used by somebody higher up on the ladder. All the good work that we thought we were doing was just someone else's dirty laundry. I thought this department was put together to stop that kind of thing from happening, Peter. Are we just the next generation of baggers and taggers?"

He groaned deeply to himself and rubbed his temples. Long frown lines formed around his mouth as well as a worrisome amount of creases in his forehead. This job was making him old before his time.

"You know you just stepped all over national security, right?"

"Seriously? That's all you can say about this? What in the hell have they done to you, Peter? Where's my heroic crime fighting uncle that would have jumped into action to stop this?"

He sighed again and leaned back in his chair.

"I suppose that it also doesn't bother you that whoever is really operating this place is also planning to harvest my power to make some kind of freaky super weapon."

To this, he finally reacted like the Peter Petrelli that she knew and loved.

"What?" he asked with alarmed eyebrows as he sat straight up in the chair.

"Operation Miranda. They've been keeping track of me and Sylar, studying us and what we can do. They want to make a weapon that they can control."

He started shaking his head emphatically. "You can't know about Miranda."

"You did?" She felt like screaming at him and throwing anything handy in his direction.

"I'm one of about ten people in the world that's _supposed_ to know about her. Miranda isn't a weapon, Claire and she doesn't have anything to do with you or Sylar. She's a person. A girl. There's only been a few proven sightings of her and she's powerful, Claire. More powerful than all of us combined. If you found something on her it's because you stumbled onto something you shouldn't have. They've been keeping an eye out for her but that's all we do against her for now."

She knew he was telling the truth as he knew it to be. But she also had the hard evidence to prove otherwise. An idea had been forming while the conversation with Peter was wrapping up and the minute he was on his way she put it into action. Claire looked carefully down the hall for anyone that might be watching and shut the door, locking it. She pulled out her phone and dialed Matt's extension line.

"Hey, Matt, it's Claire."

"Oh, hey. What's up," his voice buzzed on the other end of the line.

"I need a quick favor."

"Oh, boy. You know I hate it when you say that, right?"

"No worries, nothing big. I just need you to connect me to Molly for a minute."

"…Do you have to know where she is?"

"No, no. I'm just working this case and we need some help finding someone."

"…Well…Okay I guess. Hang on."

Claire tapped her foot as she waited to be patched through to Molly Walker. Because of her ability to find anyone, anywhere in the world at any time, the young girl always managed to be a target for someone. Parkman had slipped her away to an undisclosed location and absolutely refused to give out information on her.

"Hello?"

"Molly, hi. This is Claire Bennett at the Department of Safety-"

"Yeah, I know. Matt just told me that you need me to find someone."

"Yes, I do. I need to find a girl named Miranda. She's a 'special' like us and I think someone is out to get her so we have to find her before they do."

"Just a sec, I have to get my maps." Claire could hear some shuffling in the background and a long silent pause. Molly sniffled a few times.

"Um… You're not going to like this."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I found her but…"

"But?"

"I don't really know how to explain it. It's like she's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There isn't any single location for her like there usually is. I've never seen anything like it."

Claire groaned to herself and pushed her fingers through her hair in agitation.

"Okay, Molly. Thanks anyways."

"No problem."

With an abrupt click the girl was gone and Claire was left to her own aggravating thoughts.

* * *

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Mohinder asked as he entered the bus depot with Matt Parkman.

"No idea. I just got this creepy message and an address with this key," he muttered holding up the shiny silver object.

They walked together to the line of storage lockers and found the two compartments with matching numbers to their keys. Chris McKinley was also there, standing with a pensive look on his face like he was thinking about trying to open a locker without touching it.

"Don't tell me, you got some cryptic rhyme that told you to come here," Matt said as he approached the young agent.

"Yeah, how did you know?" McKinley seemed more than a little surprised at Parkman's accurate guess work. He just held up his key in response.

"Any ideas as to what we're going to find?" Mohinder too gave his locker heavy visual concentration.

"Nope," Chris answered. He stepped forward and unlocked his assigned unit. Inside he found a D.S.R.E.C. badge and standard issue pistol belonging to a field agent like himself. Charisma Jones, 0104, the engraving read.

Mohinder took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he might find. Inside the locker was a file folder full of his own studies. They were scans that he had passed off as being false positives or unreliable because of circumstance. The pile of scans were all the ones that showed the signs and symptoms of deep aggression in Sylar.

Now it was Parkman's turn. He unlocked the last storage unit in the row. Inside he also found a file folder, but one much more disturbing than what the other two had revealed. Crime scene photos and reports of grisly murders that Noah Bennett had been assigned to investigate glared at Matt. All of the victims had been maimed or dismembered in some way as well as missing the top halves of their skulls.

Ominous looks were passed between each member of the trio. Chris pulled out his company phone and dialed a number. He paced back and forth as it rang for well over a minute.

"Agent Jones didn't report today and now she's not answering her phone," he said darkly.

"Well, you know she and Sylar are sleeping together. Maybe they're playing hooky," Matt attempted to remain optimistic even though he felt pretty sure that they were all about to see what Janice had packed him for lunch that day. He had been so sure that Sylar really had changed. He had been around him on a near daily basis and never read anything to the contrary but the proof stared back at him in sickening detail.

"I don't care how good the guy is in bed, that woman has never missed a day of work in her life," Chris responded still staring hopefully at his phone.

"Where are you going?" Mohinder called after the young agent as he began to march away with purpose.

"To look for my team mate!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Parkman and Suresh exchanged worried glances before silently agreeing to follow along on the quest.

* * *

"Claire, I need you. I think I've done something really bad." Sylar's voice loomed ominously in the air in front of her as Claire checked her voice mail for the third time to make sure that she had not somehow misunderstood the message. Her mind flashed back to their conversation about the possibility of him turning bad again and she shuddered.

He was different now. He couldn't do anything like that. She knew it. She felt it. Didn't she?

Claire closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, and then she concentrated on Sylar. She pictured his eyes looking back at her and the way she got that weird little tickle on the back of her neck when he was nearby. There was that inexplicable tugging sensation again, like an invisible rope that tethered her to him. She obediently followed the strange instinct across the city and up to the roof of a seemingly random building that she didn't recognize.

Sylar stood there with his back to her, leaning on his elbows over the edge of the roof top terrace and looked out over the city below him.

"I knew you would find me. Even up here," he said without turning to face her. Claire walked to his side and placed her hands on the railing. He put his hand on top of hers and their fingers laced together automatically. The sun was setting. It was peaceful watching it from up there.

"Charisma's dead." He stated without looking at her. She nodded quietly. "I don't know how it happened. I don't remember… I didn't _want _to hurt her."

Claire couldn't help herself. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"I know." And it was the truth. She did know. She could feel it in every fiber of his being. "Gabriel," she started but he turned away from her again.

"You shouldn't use that name and expect it to have an effect on me just because it's you saying it."

The words hurt.

Claire pulled herself over the railing and balanced on the ledge of the terrace. Twenty stories below her were hundreds of oblivious pedestrians moving about their everyday lives like ants. Cars honked at one another for passage through the narrow street.

"Claire, what are you doing?"

She stretched her arms out past her sides and allowed herself to fall forward into a swan dive. Air rushed over her plummeting body, whipping her hair wildly and stinging her eyes. The ground was rapidly approaching but she felt no fear.

At the last possible moment before impact Sylar swooped by and snatched her in his arms.

"Claire, you're insane," he snapped, followed by unintelligible curses as he touched down on the ground. He was furious with her.

"But that's why you're my hero," she said gesturing towards the air above them with a wide beaming smile. It took a long minute of him staring at her with frustration, but he finally cracked and returned the grin.

* * *

McKinley took one last lingering look at his two companions, raised his pistol and kicked in the door to the low rent apartment. He and Matt quickly scoped out the debilitated living arrangements for their suspect in the fashion of trained officers and agents while Suresh humbly followed behind them making odd faces at the hovel.

Chris stepped into the small bedroom and immediately returned. His face had turned a sickly shade of pale white and he hooked his arm around his head to stifle a heave. Parkman entered the room to see what the deal was and had to run to the bathroom to be sick.

The agent picked up his phone and dialed another number. "Noah, it's Chris. Sylar's officially gone off the reservation… Yeah, I've got the proof. We found Jones."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Sylar paused at the door to his apartment and stared vacantly at the door knob like he would be burned if he touched it. Claire gave his hand a gentle squeeze for support and he memorized the way it felt to have her slim fingers entwined with his own. He hoped against hope that she wouldn't run away screaming when she saw what he had done. Flashes of his partner hanging from his ceiling with her blood cascading over his bed seared into his mind.

He finally made a resigned sigh and turned the knob. Someone was already inside waiting for him. Sylar held his arm rigidly behind him, keeping Claire at bay as he filled the entrance with his dark presence.

"Hello, Sylar," Noah Bennett greeted him ominously from the single seat at the rickety kitchen table.

"Noah," he nodded, refusing to move forward or chance exposing who waited in the hall beside him.

"We need to talk. I believe you know why," the older man said with a steely gaze. Sylar quickly analyzed the scenario taking place. He knew Bennett wouldn't have come alone for something like this. His eyes flashed in the direction of his bedroom.

"How many?" Claire was growing anxious beside him. She was threatening to peer out from behind his protective stance. The grip between their hands grew tighter.

Noah chuckled darkly from his seat.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way, Sylar. Come with us peacefully and I'll at least make sure you get a fair trial," the older man slowly removed his revolver from the holster under his jacket and laid it out on the table to make his point clear.

"I think we all know that's not going to happen," he remarked curtly.

"So be it," Bennett said with a smirk as several department agents revealed themselves from the bathroom and bedroom. Suresh and Parkman also joined the forces.

"No," Claire said fighting Sylar's restraint and pushing to his side where she could be seen.

"Claire?" her father said with surprise upon seeing his daughter next to the killer. His eyes trailed to their joined hands and lingered. The expression on his face turned from solemn to openly hostile. "Let go of my daughter!" he shouted, knocking the chair backwards with a loud thwacking sound as he jumped to a standing position with his gun pointed directly at Sylar's face.

"Stop it!" she cried, raising her shield around them both as the other agents in the room made to advance their positions.

"Claire, get away from him. He brutally murdered his partner and now he's doing something to make you protect him. He's a monster, Claire."

"I know what you _think_ he did. But…" she glanced up at him, "even if he did do it, I know he didn't mean to. It was accident," she whispered. Her deep blue eyes were locked on his, piercing his soul. He felt like he could swim for hours in those oceans.

"What did you do to her?" Noah demanded, unrelenting.

Sylar broke his trance on Claire to face his adversary. He really needed to breathe and swallow a hard chunk of tense nerves, but his companion's faith in him strengthened his resolve. He would not show any sign of weakness. But he could retreat.

Noah had not expected Claire to be there and would not have briefed the other operatives to avoid harming her. Right now Sylar was a top priority target and the young recruits were all itching to earn a commendation for handing over his head on a platter. If a fire fight between the two forces started he was confident that they would win, but it would also mean Claire becoming a target. She would be guilty by association even if no real charges stuck.

She sensed his dilemma. He could hear her heart picking up speed, blood making an increasingly loud whooshing sound as it pumped through her vascular system. He could feel a power surge building inside of her.

_Go. I'll hold them off until you can get away._

Sylar turned to look back into those eyes. The orbs were hardening before him as the energy field grew, waiting to be released.

_He's controlling her. He's controlling her and about to unleash her against us. We can't fight them both. Not like this._ Bennett's thoughts of recognition filtered past Sylar and he knew the girl was right.

He released her hand and began stepping away.

"Sylar!" Noah shouted in warning. One more backward step and he discharged his firearm. The bullet hovered in place just in front of Claire's shield. With a last lingering look he turned and bolted down the hallway to escape.

No one knew how much time she had spent learning to harness the full power of her force field. Any time Claire had a few minutes of spare time alone she had pushed herself to manipulate material objects. Now she concentrated on the bullet lodged in her mental barrier and forced it to turn around. She didn't aim at anyone specific but released it, sending it flying past her father into the wall behind him, digging itself deep into the dry wall boards beneath.

Every agent in the place launched themselves at her. She released the pent up energy and the resulting blast wave threw them all backward into whatever surface first broke their momentum. It was strong enough to shake the foundations of the complex. Sylar hesitated in the street as he felt the ripple of power disperse around him. The glass in every window on the street facing side blew out and rained shards into the road below.

Bennett was the first to recover from the blast. Somehow the table had flipped on its side and protected him, taking the brunt of the blow. He was torn between astonishment of what his daughter could do and blind outrage that she would actually do it. Agents were scattered throughout the tiny apartment, picking themselves up from the busted floor and peeling themselves away from the cracked walls. When the dust settled Claire was still standing there without so much as a hair out of place.

* * *

"I want everyone to report for debriefing in fifteen," Noah growled over his radio. Static and senseless chatter responded for a second before he carefully clicked it off. He didn't want anyone but those immediately present in the SUV to hear what he was about to say.

Claire slouched in her seat to make room behind her back for her cuffed hands. She stared vacantly out the window her forehead was pressed against. Her only concentration went towards making her form as compact and far away from her father as possible.

"We're going to get you the treatment you need. We'll undo whatever it was that he did to you and if we have to I'll call Renee to come… adjust your memories. Whatever it takes to get your mind right again."

His voice grated on her nerves. He just couldn't make himself believe that Sylar hadn't forced her to do those things. Denial was the first step she mused.

"Matt, I'm going to need you to do some damage control over this. All of those agents are going to have to have their memories changed so that they believe Sylar was the one who attacked us instead of Claire."

"You're kidding, right?" Noah's glare answered him. "I can't do that! I am not going to help with any kind of cover up over this. You've already been hiding evidence from us this entire time. As far as I'm concerned this is partly your fault for not taking him down sooner. And Claire has made her own choices. It's time for her deal with that like anybody else." Matt caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Sorry, Claire. It's just the way it is."

She sighed and continued to stare through the fog created by her breath hitting the cold window.

"Matt's right. Sylar should have been stopped a long time ago," Mohinder piped up, giving Noah the cold stare down.

"Says the guy who tossed out the evidence. You ran him through scans all the time. It never occurred to you that maybe the brain activity showing that he was going bad again, might have actually meant that he was going bad?"

Suresh scoffed at the man sitting next to him. "And you were around him on a near daily basis! You never read any of the thoughts about dismembering people?"

"Enough!"

For a split second Claire was actually happy to hear her father yell. She wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that they were convinced Sylar was evil again or that they were bickering about who's fault it was.

"Look at what he's doing to us. We're going to have to be able to stand together if we want to take him down. If we let this get to us he's just going to divide and conquer. He's fast and he's smart," Noah exchanged serious glances and kept his finger pointed at the air in between them. Claire recognized that technique as something he had always done to quell the arguments she had with her brother, Lyle, as a kid.

"We're also going to need Claire on our side. She might be the only one strong enough to get to him," he added with a hushed suggestive meaning.

At least they were nicer with her than they were with a lot of the captives that were brought back to the department's prison quarters. Matt and Noah assisted her with getting out of the vehicle and escorted her at her own pace towards the processing center. She watched the other agents filter out of their vans and SUVs and march back into the main building where they would await debriefing. How many times had she walked this path before but on the other side of the line?

Once inside the facility Noah bypassed the standard inspection and paper work, opting to take Claire directly to one of the holding cells near the medical bay where she assumed Parkman and Suresh would work to reverse the supposed brain washing. They sat her down on the bench inside the medium sized cell but didn't take the regulatory precaution of locking her cuffs into the fiber glass composite scaffolding that would keep a normal inmate stationary.

"We'll make this right, Claire. I promise," her father declared as he closed the cell door behind him. He looked at her through the tempered glass of the door's window and she thought she could make out the glistening of tears.

* * *

Sylar had watched helplessly as Claire was dragged away in cuffs. At least with Noah around she would be treated decently he thought to himself trying to keep a level head. He had to stay clear if he was going to figure a way out of this but it just didn't seem possible. Emotions threatened to tear him apart. Guilt that he had just abandoned her like that. Sadness that she would be put through department corrections, paying for the things that he had done. Sylar had been on the other side of those walls before. No good ever came from it. Intense anger was becoming predominant. If a single white hair on her beautiful head was harmed he would kill them all. Every last one.

He followed the caravan of black federal vehicles back to the D.S.R.E.C. campus. Claire was being led into the prison quarters, but through the standard entrance instead of the maximum security bay where the worst offenders would be shoved into their cells before any due process would take place. That plan would be her father's doing. Sylar had been around the department and the inmates enough to know that her abilities would easily be enough to warrant a place in level four if not five.

In a sick kind of way that almost made him laugh to himself. He had personally been on the receiving end of what she could do when irritated many times before. While her array of powers were not nearly as extensive as his own, her force field's capabilities were enough to cause a decent rivalry.

Sylar had to shake away the thoughts of his violent temptress and focus. He had extensive knowledge of the facilities in question and experience with breaking out of jails. But now the wringer was how to sneak into one.

There were no guards in sight. As he cautiously approached the lower security door he began to hear a faint voice calling out to him.

_Sylar, I don't know if you can hear me or not but you can't rescue me here. It's a trap. They brought me to this side hoping to lure you out. They're all waiting for you. Go to my office and get the flash drive. Take it before someone else does and then get out of here._

A trap. This is why he needed to be focused. That should have been painfully obvious. At least if all the major players were waiting for him here the way to her office would be clear.

* * *

Parkman rejoined the collection of agents and the task manager for the first response team inside the prison quarter's holding dock. Suresh shot him a dirty look for caving into Bennett's command to tamper with the field operatives' memories, forcing them to believe that Sylar had been the one to attack them instead of Claire. He had enough of his own shame to keep him occupied without the help of the geneticist.

"All done, Matt?" Noah asked with a rather implicating smile.

"Yeah. I got them all."

"Good. Now it's Claire's turn."

"Noah, I can't. Not to her. She's your own daughter for Christ's sake. How you can want me to do something like that?" He was openly imploring the stern older man. Matt wasn't sure he could take anymore guilt in one day.

"It's for her own good, Parkman. Sylar's done something to her-"

"Oh, please," Mohinder huffed under his breath.

"Do you have something constructive to say, Dr. Suresh?"

"Yes, actually I do. You know as well as anyone else that's seen them together recently that he didn't have to do anything to Claire. I've made some of my life's greatest work by studying them in the field as well as through testing."

"Are you getting at something, Suresh?" Noah's voice was strained to keep calm.

"You know I am, Mr. Bennett. You can deny it all you want, but the fact is that Sylar is desperately in love with your daughter."

"And?"

"And, she has some rather intense feelings for him as well." Noah had to fight the inner recoil from the stinging words.

"My Claire Bear would never fall for that monster."

"Try looking at her brain instead of her face sometime when he's standing right in front of her. The levels of dopamine and nor epinephrine skyrocket. Her caudate lights up like a damn Christmas tree! When they touch-"

Noah coughed loudly to interrupt any train of thought that involved his daughter touching a man that wasn't a relation of some kind.

"Parkman, I'm not asking for anything extensive. We just need to remove her motivation to protect him. If she's shielding him we'll never be able to take him down," he leaned forward just slightly to grab the man's eye contact and make a connection. "You know he's dangerous. You've seen what he's done. I've seen some of the pre-cogs' paintings about what happens if we don't stop him. Read my mind if you doubt me."

Matt saw the images of the paintings where Claire was holding a gun to her father and then Sylar kneeling over her with the gash that accompanied his signature scalpings. It was true that Noah didn't want any harm to come her. None of them did. And they couldn't stop them if she supported the killer, even if it would mean her eventual death. Together they were nearly invincible.

"Alright, I'll do it," Matt said with a tinge of disgust for himself. Mohinder had to fight to contain himself.

* * *

Sylar almost felt disappointed in a way that he hadn't run into anyone on the way to Claire's office. The whole ordeal had put him in the right mood to do some real violence. He cracked the door and sensed someone's presence, but their thoughts were clouded in some kind of haze that he couldn't break through. This peeked his interest and he stepped boldly into the room, shutting the door behind himself.

"I knew you were to smart to fall for Bennett's little scheme. Oh, well. Guess I should give the old man some credit for having the guts to try, huh?" The face of Nathan Petrelli smirked at him from Claire's chair.

He quickly noticed that this copy was flawed. The legs resting on the desk were several inches to short to belong to a true mimic. This guy had never actually been in contact with the dead Petrelli. He didn't have the DNA exposure to really clone himself. The façade was probably a mock up based on any one of the photos that haunted the walls around here. Peter's office alone could have acted as a shrine to his fallen brother. And Nathan's voice could have been pulled from any old clip off the news.

"Well, I have to say that if you're looking for attention, you certainly picked the right face to get it with."

"Yeah, I know, right? Poor Claire. You should have seen the look on her face when she thought daddy dearest had come back from the dead to hit on her. It only got more priceless when she thought it was you," he snickered.

Electricity started crackling in Sylar's hands as his temper was pushed.

The Petrelli impersonator just wagged his finger at him condescendingly.

"You don't wanna do that old buddy."

"That's funny. I'm pretty sure that I do," Sylar arched a high wattage lightning bolt from each hand at the offensive figure but missed. Before he could blink the other man was behind him with a pair of daggers, shiving him deep in each kidney. He was blinded by pain for a long minute after the blades were given a cruel twist.

"Like I said," the mimic mocked, wiping his weaponry off on the back of Sylar's shirt.

"You're not an empath," he garbled, spitting blood out onto the carpet.

"Nope. I'm exactly like you," Nathan answered dotting each word with special emphasis.

"What do you want?"

The other man chuckled as he resumed his position in Claire's chair. "Isn't it obvious by now? You're the great Gabriel Gray, Sylar, the legendary Boogie Man or whatever the hell they're calling you these days. You're the one that made intuitive aptitude the most dangerous ability the world has ever seen. Don't tell me that you can't figure it out!"

"Well, why don't you give me a hint?" he said dripping with acidic sarcasm.

Another round of low giggles. "What do you think this is, Sylar? You think we're in some kind of terrible movie where the bad guy reveals all of his plans just in time to allow the hero a convenient escape?" More insane laughter.

"I will tell you one part of the master plan. That little girlfriend of yours, Claire," he intentionally made a show of licking his lips and moaning, "I'm really going to enjoy playing with her. Maybe if you're nice I'll even share the leftovers."

With a blink the Petrelli mimic was gone, leaving papers flying in his wake and the door slamming against the wall. Sylar shuddered. His skin was crawling.

He snatched the flash drive that he had come for from Claire's computer, thankful that Nathan hadn't gotten it and focused on making it back to her.

* * *

Claire was strapped down to a cold steel slab in the frigid medical bay. At first she hadn't wanted to cooperate quite this far but after a few sessions of being gassed towards unconsciousness in her cell, succumbing was no longer an option.

Mohinder stood by watching the personnel in the white scrubs do a quick precursory examination to make sure that she was not feigning sleep or having any kind of negative reaction to the gas they had used on her. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening. The sheer audacity of it all and how many people were playing along was absolutely revolting.

She was such a sweet girl. She didn't deserve this.

After getting an okay from the medical staff Noah came to stand next to her. He smoothed her hair away from her face and tucked a rogue lock behind her ear like the doting father that he should have been. Bennett knew what the others were thinking about him just then. That he was some kind of cruel villainous figure because he would allow, let alone order the restructuring of his own daughter's mind. But they didn't understand that it was a necessary evil. It would hurt him to watch much more than anyone else present.

Sylar couldn't be allowed to roam free anymore. Noah had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that the methods of the murders were unusual for the dark man's handy work. Originally he had believed it to be a very good copy cat. He had even made an effort to cover up the exact causes of death to steer suspicion away. But Agent Jones's death had been the final straw. That could never be forgiven and he would not allow a good agent like her to die in vain.

Claire had to be stopped for her own good.

Parkman stepped up to the slab and gulped loudly. She looked so small and frail and helpless just laying there like that. He felt like he was going to be sick again. Bennett had finally convinced him that it was the right thing to do but it just felt wrong, like he would be violating her.

Noah caught his hesitation as he was patting his daughter's hand.

"I… I just don't think I can do this…"

The older man let go of Claire's hand to remove a wallet sized photo from his jacket pocket. He peered over the top of his horn rimmed glasses at Parkman as he showed him the picture of Matty, his own son.

"Your boy has a very strong gift, Parkman. Do you trust Sylar enough to run free in a world where your son could be his next victim? You can't be at home all the time, Matt. If you don't do this for the right reasons, do it for the selfish ones."

Matt took a deep breath and paused again before placing his hand on Claire's. He looked into her mind first to see what he could find. He saw Sylar through her eyes as the figment of her worst nightmares evolving over time from a perverse killer into a reluctant friend and then into something much more. She saw so much more in him than any of the others did. Even though they bickered constantly about every little thing some days, he was always there at her back when events went south. Claire had learned to trust him. She had accepted him for the deeply flawed but reformed man that he claimed to be. Somewhere along the way, Claire had learned to love him.

Parkman backed off again, shaking his head fervently.

"I can't. I'm sorry but I just can't do this. It's wrong."

Noah nodded in understanding and picked up his phone. After a minute's worth of hushed conversation the Haitian entered the medical bay. The tall dark man strolled up to Claire's side and started to lay a hand on her forehead.

"Wait!"

Bennett looked up expectantly.

"Wait, just… I'll do it okay."

"Parkman, this is going to happen. If you don't do it, Renee will."

Matt nodded and put his hand back on Claire's, willing the Haitian away with a dirty glare. If they had to violate her mind this way at least he could give her something happy.

_Claire, you were right. Sylar is a good man now and he didn't do those terrible things. But someone is out there trying to hurt him. They have shape shifted into his form. You don't need to worry because the real Sylar is safe, but anyone you see that looks like him has to be stopped. You're the only one strong enough to bring this guy down. He has to be arrested._

"It's done," he announced.

Mohinder shook his head in blatant disappointment. Shame was filling his gut again.

* * *

**Just out of mild curiosity, anyone have any ideas who the real villain is yet?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

As Sylar crept back towards the prison ward of the department's campus he again saw a lack of guard activity. He knew this was a trap of some kind now, but if he could just make it to Claire they would make quick work of an escape together. When he was within range he started listening for any signs of conscious activity. A part of him was hoping that Claire would call out to him again. Surely she would sense his presence.

There was that funny little tickle at the back of his neck alerting him that she was somewhere nearby but he couldn't hear her. She had probably fallen asleep from boredom. He smiled inwardly thinking about how she could manage to sleep just about anywhere. Claire always looked so sweet and innocent when she slept. He could never let her know how many times he had sat just outside her apartment window at night watching her. It suddenly dawned on him how that could be construed as creepy and stalkerish so he pushed the thought away.

Peering into the holding dock he noted how even the processing center had been deserted. They were ready and waiting for him. He just wished he knew how many.

Two armed guards were camped just outside the door to the medical bay. Sylar was calculating that they must have stowed her away in there. The room was heavily fortified to prevent any major disasters from injured or upset inmates and was big enough to store a small army inside. He inhaled deeply a few times and set his mind to the mission at hand. It was time to get his game face on.

* * *

Noah heard the screams first and instinctively ducked as the two guards from the door were thrown back into the room. He drew his pistol and waited with baited breath as Sylar stormed in just the way he had planned. The murderer's eyes were aflame with rage as he scanned the few dozen agents littering the floor. This was good. Emotions would make him sloppy.

Long arches of blue lightning cracked the air and a few of the operatives were felled, convulsing from the electrocution. Sylar flung another handful of agents across the bay with a flick of his wrist. When he extended his hand for another electrical blast a few strands of static sparked from his fingers and died. He looked down at his hand curiously and recognition forced his eyes wide. The Haitian stepped forward, blocking any more abilities from him.

Claire woke up from her gas induced fog and became immediately alert. Parkman watched helplessly as her force field drew itself around her. She sat up from the slab, ripping away her leather security straps as though they were tissue paper. Her eyes focused on Sylar and she cocked her head to the side slightly robotically.

"Claire, what did they do to you?" Sylar asked, sensing her sudden hostility towards him.

The little blonde jumped from the steel surface and bounded in his direction with impressive speed. She hurled her shield at him, knocking him to the ground. When he attempted to stand up again she forced him back down with a charged up punch to the face that made his head hit the cement floor with a resounding crack. He kicked her over him as she made to attack again.

Sylar was defenseless against her without his powers. She would kill him.

"Claire, what are you doing?" he called to her. Matt died a little inside when he saw the look in Sylar's eyes. He was pleading with her to stop.

Noah and the other recruits began to open fire. Shots rang through the air and a few succeeded in finding their intended target. Sylar stumbled backwards as his shoulder, chest and thigh were pieced by the brass projectiles. Blood spurted from the wounds over the floor. He slipped on it and fell back, the trip fatefully working to his favor as it caused Claire to over shoot her mark when she lunged for him again.

Sylar grappled to his feet and ran as fast as he could away from the medical bay. Claire was hot on his heels but he managed to get far enough from the Haitian to regain his abilities. He created a wall of icy fog that obstructed her view of him long enough to launch himself into the sky.

Everyone filed outside just in time to see their primary target flying away, still bleeding.

"I'll hunt him. I'll find him. And then I'll kill him," Claire promised as she marched past the crowd. Her focus was set with lazar precision.

Noah smiled at Matt with a wicked gleam in his eye.

* * *

Mohinder shuffled back to his laboratory with a heavy mind. He was still miffed over Noah Bennett's decision to use Parkman to warp his own daughter's brain that way. As objective oriented as the man could be this was entirely out of character for him. He never would have thought that the desire to capture Sylar could go so far. And the way that he had manipulated Matt to do it, preying on his insecurities about his own son. The whole situation was nothing short of disgusting. If this was the way operations would be run here maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to put in his resignation and return home to India.

While Suresh was passing one of the bathrooms along his way he heard muffled coughing and choking. His thoughts turned to concern. Someone sounded extremely ill.

Noah stumbled from the bathroom looking sickly pale. The older man's face was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and his features were contorted painfully.

"Noah?" the doctor addressed the man with surprise.

"Hello, Mohinder," he mumbled leaning his back against the wall. He coughed a few more times.

"Weren't you just…? What happened? Were you injured? You were fine just a minute ago…"

"What are you talking about?" Noah garbled incoherently.

Mohinder was thoroughly confused now. He turned to look back at where he had come from, gesturing absent mindedly. And then the gravity of his frustrations with the man were remembered.

"Mr. Bennett you should be ashamed of yourself. Forcing Matt Parkman to change your daughter's memories that way is a particularly low tactic, even for your standards."

"What?" the task manager's eyes became alarmed. "Claire's here? Parkman…" he coughed and heaved again, "did something to Claire?"

Suresh felt his stomach plummet to the floor. Something was very, very wrong here.

"Noah, how long have you been sick?"

"All morning. I think someone spiked my coffee with damn eye drops. What's happening with Claire? Is she alright?"

"We… We were duped… We have to sound the alarm The facility has been infiltrated by the shape shifter!" Mohinder sprinted back to the lobby between the prison ward and the department's offices. He leapt over the counter of the information desk and jammed the switch. Sirens filled the building, bleeping with a low sound wave followed by a higher pitched one. The alarm lights were activated throwing yellow beams around the room.

"Security breach. Security breach. Security breach, all personnel are ordered to report for briefing," the alarm blared the emergency message. Agents poured out of the offices and marched towards the auditorium.

Bennett attempted to pull his revolver but was wracked with another wave of dizzying nausea. He dashed back into the bathroom.

* * *

Matt Parkman kept seeing Claire's face. She had gone from a sweet and innocent little girl to a rabid killing machine in seconds. And it was all his fault.

He knew that she had meant what she said. Claire now believed that Sylar was in danger because of a deranged duplicate running amuck. She would find him and she would tear him apart. Matt thought about how he would react if he had ever thought Janice or Matty were in danger and he shuddered at the dark places his mind went to.

She would be irrevocably devastated when she learned the truth. After she had slaughtered the real Sylar with her bare hands.

Parkman completely ignored the secretary's protests as he barged into Peter Petrelli's office.

"I quit," he stated simply and made to turn back around to leave. Peter hopped up from his desk with concern.

"Matt, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

He hesitated for a long moment trying to figure out how exactly to put his feelings into words.

"Yeah, Noah Bennett's a dick."

Petrelli had to work extremely hard to stifle the snicker. He didn't succeed.

"Okay, well, what did he do this time?"

"Gee, um, I don't know. Maybe forcing me to screw with Claire's head so that she would want to murder Sylar in cold blood had something to do with it."

"What?" Peter shouted the question with more force than he had expected.

And then the alarms sounded.

* * *

"Alright, Molly, thank you very much for your assistance," Noah smirked as he snapped his company phone shut. "We've got a location on the Sylar impostor, Claire. He's hunkered down in an abandoned house on the city limits."

Claire finished buckling her regulation boots and began selecting her weaponry from the department's arsenal. She pulled a long combat knife from the wall and examined the vicious looking serrated edge. Her finger ran across the blade with a little _plink_ at the end where the tip nicked bone. Next she pulled out a standard issue .22 caliber pistol, opting to keep things simple.

As strong as the urge to torture the man who threatened Sylar's life might be, he was dangerous and this would have to be kept a cut and dry operation. Get in, terminate the threat, get out.

"Move out," she growled at the handful of agents that the department had put to her disposal. The troops obediently reported to the line of black SUVs waiting for them. There was a sharp pain in her chest that she couldn't shake.

* * *

"You son of a bitch! What did you do to my niece!" Peter snarled as he snatched Noah Bennett and held him against the wall by the throat. Noah swiveled to bring his elbow down over Peter's arm to break the grip and proceeded to bend the offending arm behind his back, defusing the situation.

"All that desk jockey work has made you a little soft, Peter," Noah grumbled with another cough. He released Peter and the two men glowered at one another.

"It wasn't him, Peter," Mohinder mumbled as he rubbed the space between his eyebrows where the headache was forming. "The shape shifter was pretending to be Noah."

"You're saying that I just got duped into turning the good guys against each other… by the bad guy?" Matt caught on.

"Looks that way," Noah muttered.

"If you're the real Noah Bennett, where's the other one?" They all turned to look at Peter.

"And where's Claire?" Bennett demanded.

* * *

The whiteness faded from Sylar's eyes and he grimaced at the canvas before him. He had painted yet another scene of impending tragedy. Since the encounter earlier that day he had been working like a mad man to find answers and none of them were satisfying. Paintings of himself and Claire locked in battle and of her laying with a broken and bloodied head littered the dark basement. He tore the portrait in half and threw the pieces into a corner. The rest followed and were set ablaze.

He slumped to the floor next to a bucket of bloody water that he had used to clean himself up after the bullets had been pushed from his body. Sylar didn't have to ask what they had done to Claire. He had seen Parkman's face in the background before she had come for him with murder in her eyes. They had used his ability to turn her against him, convincing her that he was the enemy. She wasn't Claire anymore. Not _his_ Claire.

She would be coming for him. He knew that. And it would be bloody. But he couldn't make himself believe that he could kill her, even if it meant his own life.

His life. He scoffed darkly at the idea. His life held no meaning without her in it. He had long ago resolved that watching the centuries pass in loneliness was not something he was prepared to deal with. He could acquire all the powers in the world, but a life in solitude had no purpose.

The back of his neck tickled just a little. They were here.

* * *

The sun was setting as the caravan of black government vehicles pulled onto the street where their target was located. Claire eyed the small rural home with disdain. It was even worse for wear than the house Samson Gray had been living in, but it wasn't the dilapidated structure itself that held her loathing. The occupant did. Inside was a monster that had brutally murdered countless people, nearly managed to kill her and now threatened the life of the man she… had managed to bond with.

Claire slipped out of the SUV and slammed the door behind her. As the other field operatives followed suit she carefully instructed them to wait on the side lines until she was able to force the target out from his cover. Noah took his daughter by the shoulders.

"Be careful, Claire Bear. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you." He kissed the top of her head and beamed with pride as she steeled herself in anticipation.

Claire entered the home with her shield drawn, eyeing every dark corner, ready for the villain to step out and attack at any moment. The home appeared to be deserted. None of the top floors rooms were occupied by anything more intimidating than a dust bunny. She couldn't explain it, but she felt compelled to approach a plywood door in the back of the kitchen area. She opened it and descended a set of narrow creaky stairs into the basement area.

"Hello, Claire," he greeted gloomily from his position on the floor. He didn't even turn to look at her. "Come to arrest me?"

"No."

Sylar climbed to his feet and faced her with his hands out, palm sides up. "Didn't think so."

What kind of trick was this? Why wasn't he moving to attack her or run or anything the typical bad guy did?

She wasn't going to waste her opportunity. Claire ran at the man, leaping through the air and reinforcing her fist with energy as it violently collided with his face. The Sylar look alike stumbled back, nearly falling back to the floor, but regained his balance. He set his jaw back in place with a snap and spit the blood from his mouth onto the ground. There was still no motion to counter attack.

Her shield was thrown at him, knocking his feet out from under him. He just got back up and resumed his defenseless position.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you fighting back?" The questions seemed to come from someone else.

"Because I don't want to hurt you. You can kill me if you have to. I won't stop you."

Claire shook her head in confusion. This had to be a trick. Some kind of tactic to get her guard down. The logical side of her brain began to argue fervently with the part that controlled her moral compass. This just felt wrong.

But he's a danger. Not just to other people, but to the _real_ Sylar.

A sharp searing pain stabbed through her chest. He flinched a little.

Memories of what it had been like to fight the real Sylar filled her mind. She had liked how he had never held back. He challenged her and pushed her to be faster, stronger, better. He was the only one that treated her like she was capable and not a porcelain doll. It was a good feeling.

Sylar smiled inwardly as he read her thoughts. Every punch, kick, zap and snap were loaded with meaning. Each recollection of them battling one another was followed with a moment where their eyes had met or they awkwardly realized that they were still touching.

"Would it make it easier for you? If I fought back?" Claire detected the poorly concealed sadness in the impostor's tone and it infuriated her.

She swung a sharp elbow at his jaw and he grabbed her arm to stop the motion. Sylar hit her with a strong enough jolt of electricity to knock her back. She aimed a high kick at his chest and he stopped that too, gripping her ankle and throwing her to the floor. He placed a hand on the chest armor and froze it solid. With a gentle _clink_ from his fingers the protective gear shattered, leaving her shirt beneath unharmed.

"Good to see that Mohinder hasn't quite fixed that yet."

The shield powered up and launched him into the wall with enough force to crack the concrete blocks. Another lightning bolt sent her unprotected heart into spasms. She bounded after her him again, swinging wildly. He easily deflected her attacks and mentally threw her into the adjacent wall.

"You're thinking to much."

Claire cried out as he raised his finger and began to slash away at her. The wounds were healing as quickly as they appeared.

"Focus, Claire!"

Her barrier raised, stopping the attack. She concentrated on aiming it at the dark man and released, sending a long light driven spike deep into his stomach. As he fell to his knees her foot met his head. When he sprawled forward over the floor she whipped out the combat knife she had selected earlier and jammed the blade into his neck, giving it a harsh twist.

Blood pooled from the mortal wound over the cement, but it didn't stop him. Sylar got back to his feet and popped his neck as the gash sealed shut.

"I thought you wanted to kill me. You're not doing a very good job."

"Shut up!" she screamed at him.

"Come on, Claire! You think you want to be a killer? You know how to do it!" He seethed at her as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the tattoo of her on his arm. A tear spilled over her cheek. The mental walls of Parkman's illusion were beginning to break down.

She lashed out again, powering up several low blowing punches, an elbow to the chin, a quickly placed fist to the kidney, a spinning kick to put him down. He rolled out from under her, levitating her into the ceiling and crashing her to the floor. She formed her shield into a wall of spikes and ran him down with it. He started alternating shots of heat, electricity and ice at her. She absorbed them all and released a blast wave of energies that crushed the supporting beams of the home like dry kindling.

The ceiling started to fall in chunks around them, the air so thick with dust that they could barely see, but they continued to fight. She charged up her fists and swung a jab that he ducked from. He landed a low blow to her stomach and she upper cut his jaw. He side stepped another jab and hooked his arm around her throat. She head butted him and tossed him over her shoulders. He grabbed her foot again as she aimed a high kick at his head and sent her spinning to the floor. She jumped back to her feet and threw up her shield just as he blasted her with heat. They started a bitter standoff. His heat rays versus her light barrier. The two energies were glancing off of one another, neither force budging an inch until a maximum overload of power sent them both crashing in opposite directions hard enough to rupture the walls.

Sylar crawled, coughing, through the rubble of the basement. The house was collapsing from the strain of their fight. Claire lifted a heavy cinderblock from her chest so that she could breathe. Her leg was badly broken and the bone had perforated her leg armor. If she could still feel the pain she would have been screaming in agony. He made his way over to her and mentally tossed one of the fallen beams off of her leg. He gingerly moved the splintered bone back into position and set the leg for her.

"We've got to quit doing this. We're going to run out of places to fight."

Claire caught herself giggling at the thought. For a second she didn't shy away when his hand found hers. And then she rolled and tried to get to her feet, bumping her head on some of the wreckage of the caving ceiling. Sylar also tried to rise but she kicked him in the face again. He groaned, twitching his nose as the bone knitted back together. He wrapped a strong hand around her ankle and tugged her down. She landed with a thud on her back side.

He rolled over on top of her, grabbing her hands and placing them over his heart as she attempted to swing at him again.

"Look at me, Claire. You know who I am."

She looked deep into molten eyes that were staring back at her so closely. Only the real Sylar could look at her that way, like the world could end any second and she was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

"Gabriel?" she started timidly, tears streaming down her face. The mental blocks that had been installed in her mind came violently crashing down.

He let out a sigh of relief and let his head fall onto her chest. They stayed that way, breathing heavily for several minutes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the dust ridden air.

"It's okay. But I think I might kill Parkman."

"It wasn't his fault. I remember now. My dad made him do it."

"Good. I was starting to run out of reasons to hate that guy."

She slapped him.

"Ouch."

Claire started running her fingers through his hair, sending a little shiver down his spine. When he looked up she placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him to her. There was a brief pause as their eyes met and then their lips followed.

* * *

The fake Noah and Claire's position had be easy enough to find. With a radio call for the address and the bright flashing lights that had been set up around the perimeter of the house to guide them, the group pulled up behind the line of SUVs in no time at all. D.S.R.E.C. agents were milling around unsure of what they should be doing. They had all be instructed to wait until Claire could flush the target out of the house, but she had been in there for a long time and all of the crashing sounds and occasional light surges from the windows were rather worrisome. Bennett's impostor was no where to be found.

Peter, Matt, Noah and Mohinder joined the group of agents to get what information they could about the situation.

"Mr. Bennett, sir, should we be going in there yet? Claire might need some help."

Noah watched as a part of the roof caved inward and any remaining glass left in the windows was shattered following the low boom of a small explosion.

"No. Hold your positions. If you've ever seen those two fight before, you know you don't want to be the one to break it up." The young operative nodded fervently.

The foursome started to cautiously approach. Another rumbling crash shook the foundations and cracked the earth in a long line towards the street. They all exchanged wide eyed glances of concern. Peter started running.

"Wait," Matt yelled, sprinting to catch up to him and grabbing his shoulder to hold him back.

"We have to stop them! They're going to kill each other!" Peter exclaimed in a rush, turning back to approach the scene again.

"Um… They're not trying to _kill_ each other in there… exactly."

Petrelli gave Parkman a confused expression.

"Oh…" Mohinder uttered, catching on to the suggestion of what was really happening.

"Oh," Peter mouthed, also clueing in. And then his face contorted in disgust as he looked back at the house. "Oh."

Noah started heaving again. Whether it was residual nausea from his poisoned coffee or the thought of his daughter doing anything with Sylar that didn't include work related contact, no one was really sure.

A blue lightning bolt shot through the roof and cracked in the air, setting a small fire where it had forced its way out of the home. White light started glowing through the windows, slowly gathering magnitude until it became like day outside and then it flashed with another sonic boom leaving the bystanders temporarily blind as the shock wave rippled through the ground and shut down the perimeter lights as well as the running engine of one of the vehicles.

If there had been any lasting hopes for repairing the house they vanished. What remained of the now blazing roof collapsed into itself. The rest of the place quickly crumbled in suit.

* * *

Sylar and Claire hadn't noticed at all what havoc their energies were wreaking around them. The screaming vortex of the telekinetic storm had enveloped them in their own world, sweeping away any debris. Static crackled over head and shafts of light were escaping Claire's hands everywhere she touched him.

Reluctantly their mouths parted for air. They may have been virtually immortal, but asphyxiation wasn't attractive. He was tangling his fingers in a lock of her hair when her hands slipped under his shirt and made to tug it off. He chuckled quietly and retrieved the curious hands.

"I'm not so sure that _that_ is the best idea right now." Sylar roamed his eyes around their surroundings and she joined in the humor with a stifled giggle. "Especially since you're family is waiting outside…"

"Can we blow them off for a while longer? I really don't want to deal with that right now," she sighed.

"I'm willing to go with whatever you want to do at this point. They want to try to take me back to jail anyways."

"Anything?" she asked suggestively.

"Anything but that," he said rolling his eyes in the darkness.

Sylar felt her body tense underneath him.

"What's wrong?"

"That makes twice now that I've practically thrown myself at you."

"And twice that I've turned you down." He ran static charged fingers down her arm.

_He acts like he wants me… And then he doesn't… Maybe I'm doing something wrong…_

"Do you love me, Claire?"

Her mind went completely blank for a moment.

"Gabriel-"

"I'm not talking about Gabriel Gray, Claire. I'm talking about _me_. Gabriel is gone. He hasn't existed for a long time and I don't know that he can ever come back. Can you love me? Even as a monster?"

She was still drawing a blank.

"And that is why I turn you down," he said giving her a peck on the forehead and climbing to his feet. Claire rose beside him.

_I want him… Isn't that enough? _

"I know that it probably doesn't make sense, but if that ever happens for us I want to know that it isn't going to be something that you'll regret later. Having you hate my guts I can handle. Having you periodically trying to kill me, I can handle," she smiled just a touch and slapped his arm playfully. "But I don't want you to do anything that could make you hate yourself.

"Besides all that," he gestured around them, "if this is what happens while the clothes are still on, we might have to find a nuclear testing ground for anything else."

Claire and Sylar exited the smoldering remains of the house under the protection of her shield and were greeted by the dozen waiting agents with their fire arms drawn. Peter punched Matt in the arm for cracking up over the sheepish expressions on their faces. Mohinder stopped taking soil samples from the cracked dirt and Noah just looked like he was about to blow out a blood vessel.

"Now what?" Claire asked turning to her dark companion.

"How do you feel about visiting me in prison?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Sylar, you can come peacefully and we can do this the easy way-"

"Or the hard way. I've heard that before."

"Go. I'll find you later," she whispered.

"I'm not leaving you like that again," Sylar mumbled.

"Sylar!" Noah yelled, losing any patience he had left.

"We don't have a choice. Go." She gave his hand a squeeze and dropped it.

Sylar threw up a frosty wall of fog to obscure the view of the others and pulled her in for a goodbye kiss. And then he was gone.

"Get in the car, Claire," her father demanded. "We're going to have a long talk tomorrow, young lady," he vowed as she followed the instruction.

* * *

The hot steamy water of shower had been exactly what she needed after such a long day. Cleaning away the sweat and grime felt regenerating and the scent of her favorite shampoo helped to clear heavy thoughts.

She was in the process of wrapping the towel around her hair when she heard the knock at her door. There was only one person that she could think of who might come calling so late at night. Claire hurriedly dawned her fluffy bathrobe and did a split second check in the mirror before answering.

"Is that offer still on the table?"

Sylar smirked at her from the hall. Apparently he also felt better after cleaning up because his confidence had increased several fold. He pulled her into him for a passionate kiss and then scooped her up in his arms.

"I've never done this before," she said baited breath, her heart threatening to burst through her chest.

"I know," he said with an evil gleam in his eye as he kicked the door shut behind them.

* * *

**The review monster must be fed. Don't be shy about telling me what you really think. My super power isn't reading minds so I won't know if you don't tell me. =)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Claire was floating towards consciousness from a deep dreamless sleep. The covers were pulled tight up to her neck leaving her warm and comfortable enough that she didn't want to admit that she was awake yet. Her hands reached out to explore the other side of the bed and came up empty. She opened her eyes and found herself alone. The other half of the bed was cold like no one had ever been there.

She convinced herself not to become upset just yet. Claire padded around her apartment wrapped up in a sheet, toga style, looking for her companion. But the place was empty with no evidence left behind of what had happened last night except the dull ache in her hips and thighs. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation but it did make her feel oddly jelly like.

Maybe he had been right. Maybe it hadn't been the correct time yet. Of all the people to abandon her after a one night stand she had never expected _him_ to do that to her, even when he was still the villain haunting her nightmares. Claire sunk to the floor, her heart growing heavy and the tears welling up in her eyes. Her head swam with dark thoughts. He had spent so much time over the last few years obsessing over her, killing people to get to her, stalking her, do anything necessary to get her attention no matter how awful and now that he had gotten what he wanted from her, he was gone.

She was border line hysterical when the thought popped into her head that if _that_ was what it took to get rid of him, maybe she should have done it sooner and at least saved a few lives.

And then there was a gentle knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat with hope. She almost tripped over her sheet as she ran for the door and flung it wide open.

"Nice toga," a man she had never seen before in her life smirked at her. She would have argued at the way he pushed past her into the apartment if she hadn't been distracted by the quiet breaking of her heart. "I know they're not waffles, but I wasn't exactly in a position to cook this morning so I brought muffins. Hope you're hungry," he mumbled at her tossing a brown paper bag on an end table and plopping himself down on her couch.

After the moment of shock faded away she whirled around on the strange man, about to take her frustrations out on the intruder when she noticed his eyes. The face was new, but the dark eyes brooded at her like molten butterscotch.

"You mind getting dressed or something… Not that I don't appreciate the view, but I'd like to be able to talk to you without being sidetracked." The stranger's face started melting away into one much more familiar.

Claire almost tipped the couch over as she leapt onto Sylar's lap. His momentary groan of pain was stifled by the white hot lips smothering his own. Blue static crackled down her back where his hands massaged her skin. She nibbled lightly at his neck but had to stop when one of the throw pillows burst into flames.

"Do you greet every guy you get at your door like that or just me?" His tone was playful but his eyes were burning with intense primal hunger.

"Where did you go? I hated waking up by myself. I thought you ditched me or something," she said giving him a peck and rolling off to grab a muffin. "Blueberry!"

There was a very confused Sylar awaiting her gaze when she turned back around.

"What do you mean… you thought I ditched you… because you woke up alone…" The wheels of his brain were turning.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you like that," she tossing her hands a little and smiling.

"Claire… Was there someone with you this morning?"

"You." And then reality struck like a low blow to the stomach with an iron sledgehammer. "It was you… wasn't it? Please tell me it was you," she desperately pleaded.

He didn't have to shake his head in the negative. She could see it in those eyes that she had been mentally praising only moments before. They were fading into dark and cold stone, dead inside, like she felt. Claire ran into the bathroom, slammed the door behind her and locked it. Her throat had swollen so tight that she couldn't even choke out the sobs that were revolting in her stomach. The tears poured freely with her shame and the last light of hope in her heart was traumatically snuffed out as it crumbled to pieces.

Sylar became a living statue on the couch. He couldn't even be sure that his heart continued to beat after he had stopped breathing. It felt like someone had taken a blow torch and cut his still beating heart from his chest just to stab it with a red hot poker while he watched. Whether it was her pain that he was feeling or his own, he wasn't sure. There didn't seem to be a difference.

Her sobs echoed back to him from the bathroom, morphing between cries of agony, dry heaves and choked off coughing. She was probably vomiting now.

Suddenly Sylar was trapped in a nightmare again, unable to wake up or escape. He wanted so badly to fix what had been broken but this time none of the parts made any sense to him. This wasn't something that he could make better or take back.

He walked into her bedroom in a daze and scanned the area. Everything seemed to be perfectly in it's place. He hadn't figured that a struggle would be evident since she had thought it was him, but somehow a violent attack seemed less horrific to him than being manipulated so harshly. Sylar started to reach out to touch the remaining sheets on her bed and paused, drawing back away from the reality of what had really happened before the full gravity of it could suck him down and finish crushing him into oblivion.

To late. The shock was wearing off and the flood gates of depression were opening. As much pain as he felt for her, he couldn't stop the flash of fury that ripped through him. How could she have believed that it was him? Didn't she know who he really was? Had he not told her only hours before that it wasn't the time?

And then the shame of those terrible thoughts against her pounded him with relentless guilt. He knew how it could happen. He remembered wanting her so desperately that he had mistaken Charisma for her and Jones hadn't even been a shape shifter. More guilt drove it's merciless spikes into him.

Sylar shuffled to the door of the bathroom and used his telekinesis to turn the lock on the other side. He dropped to the tiled floor and crawled over to Claire, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms tight around her. She leaned her head into his chest and proceeded to drench his shirt in tears. He softly nuzzled the hair at her cheek and allowed himself to slouch back against the bathtub. They stayed that way until all of the misery was completely drained away and they fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Knowing that wherever Claire was, Sylar would be nearby, Noah Bennett had called Peter, Matt and Mohinder to come with him to retrieve her when she didn't report to her office that morning. The logical place to start searching for her seemed to be her apartment so the group had driven together to the complex where she lived just a few miles from the department's campus. Even though the distance to the location was short, the ride itself felt like hours passing in tense silence. Suspicions were running high and trust only coming in trickles now that they had all been played by a very convincing shifter.

As they strolled towards her door Matt stopped dead in his tracks. Darkness was emanating from the home, but more of a painful blend then that of malevolence. Two lines of thought were echoing out to him but they seemed to be sharing the same path. Dreamlike images of Claire watching helplessly while two Sylars battled one another, each calling out to her. One pleading with her to come to him, while the other was taunting and shrinking her away. Sylar and Claire were in there together, apparently having the same nightmare.

As the others also halted their approach to turn and look at him, Parkman sought to grab Peter's attention.

_I think you should go in first, Peter. Something bad has happened. They're both in there together and they need someone a little more understanding to connect with. Sylar's feeling a little unstable right now and doesn't need to be pushed into a fight._

Peter nodded quietly, sensing the distress inside as well.

"Wait here," he instructed the others. Noah started to argue, but Mohinder put a hand on his shoulder also clueing in to what kind of scenario they might be facing.

Peter cautiously entered the apartment and followed the sound of shallow breathing into the bathroom. He found Sylar holding Claire close, her face stained with tears, her body covered only with the tangled wrappings of a sheet. He felt his heart sink deeper the closer he got to them.

Sylar's eyes opened and his hand stretched out aggressively to attack but stopped noticing the lack of threat coming from the Petrelli. Claire had been startled awake by his quick movements and her eyes shied away from her uncle, filled with more pain and shame. Peter crouched to the floor beside the pair and his hand found Claire's. He didn't have to read their minds to know what had happened. His empathetic personality could feel it.

* * *

Six pairs of eyes stared solemnly at the floor in silence. Claire had gotten dressed into a hideously unmatched and baggy set of sweats and now sat flanked on the couch by Sylar and Peter. Sylar had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other held her hand, rubbing small circular patters over hers with his thumb as her head rested on his shoulder. Peter had her other hand clasped in both of his. Noah sat rigidly in the chair beside the couch with a blank expression. Matt and Mohinder had both pulled chairs away from the table. Matt sat in his backwards with his arms folded over the back and his head resting on them. Mohinder slouched forward with hands supporting his heavy mind. It was a dark hour for everyone and they had all put aside their differences to come together for support.

Claire sniffled and the sound shattered the deafening silence, disturbing everyone. Sylar pulled her just a little bit closer and Peter softly patted the hand he had possession of.

"What in the hell is this guy after?" Matt groaned, banging his head against his arms in frustration.

"Well, it's pretty clear that trying to tear us apart is a main objective," Noah mumbled.

"He's managed to prey on all of our insecurities. He turned you against Sylar with those murders. He turned us against you with the evidence you hid. He turned Matt and I against Sylar. And now it appears he's trying to drive a rift between Sylar and Claire," Mohinder muttered, more to himself than the others as his brain tried to mash the puzzle pieces together in a way that would make sense.

"He failed," Claire squeaked into the dark shoulder that sheltered her. Sylar kissed the top of her head and returned to his brooding state. Noah itched a little with the blatant display of affection between them. He felt conflicted about their proximity. On one hand he appreciated that she had someone to support and protect her, but on the other hand, it was Sylar. That was something he would not get over any time soon if ever.

"He forced me to kill again," Sylar growled.

"But what does this guy have to gain by doing all of this? What is the benefit of turning you loose on the world with us all to divided to stop you?" Peter quietly mused.

"Perhaps that is the answer we're looking for?" Mohinder leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms.

"What, he wants to set a monster free?" Matt perked up. "No offense, Sylar," he quickly added as an after thought.

"If he wants a killer, he's got a killer. And he's number one on the list," Sylar muttered darkly.

"Don't talk like that. You're not that guy anymore," Claire said sitting up to look him in the eye.

"Are you so sure about that?" Nathan Petrelli's voice sounded from the door. "Hello, lover," he said smacking a kiss in Claire's direction as everyone turned to look at the impostor. They all stood up in unison, shifting aggressively towards the unwelcome visitor.

"I told you I was going to have fun playing with your girlfriend there, Sylar. And she was," the mimic rolled Nathan's eyes and shrugged his shoulders, "alright. I've had better though." He finished the stinging insult with a revolting grin.

"You son of a bitch!" Peter screamed, charging at his brother's look alike.

A hand raised in a halting motion and Peter was stayed. He started to lift off of his feet into the air, clutching at his throat and making choking noises. Noah pulled his revolver and took a shot at the mimic. The bullet stopped in front of the man and switched directions, burying itself in Mohinder's chest. He collapsed to the floor. Noah's gun was mentally yanked from his hand and thrown through the window on the other side of the room. When Matt stepped forward to push a thought into his head, Nathan flicked his wrist and tossed him out the window after the gun.

Sylar had positioned himself in front of Claire, watching the attacker's movements so akin to his own and now he lunged forward with a low guttural sound like a growl issuing from his throat. Claire was right behind him, shielding them both. Nathan dropped Peter to the floor, where he lay purple faced, gasping for air and only barely conscious.

"I'd like to see how that works," the mimic sneered, looking at Claire's ability with awe and hungry envy.

Sylar arched a blue lightning bolt in his direction at full voltage, but missed as the man blurred through the room to grab Noah. Claire watched in horror as the villain held her father hostage with his arms forced behind his back at an awkward angle and his head twisted nearly to the point where his neck would break.

"So this is Sylar the killer? The Boogie Man that everyone is so afraid of? Gotta tell ya, man, I'm failing to be impressed right now. What are you going to do? Are you going to try to get the bad guy or are you going to save your friends? You don't have time to do both do you?" Nathan grinned mockingly.

The mental wall that had separated Sylar's inner psychopath from his redeemed self for so long blew apart with a tidal wave of fury. He telekinetically yanked Noah's body from the mimic's grasp, snapping his neck in the process and flew at the smirking impostor. Claire's screams barely registered over the boiling darkness that was gushing over him like a geyser of hatred and malice. The two men disappeared out the window.

Claire rushed to her father's side and screamed again when no life was to be found in his body. She looked around in panic and found the glass top of her coffee table glinting at her. Her hands gripped the end of the table and hurled it a wall with impressive force, shattering the glass over the floor. She snatched the first shard she found and dug it deep into her arm on her way back to her father. A violent stabbing motion with the glass dagger left a gaping wound in his chest where his blood began to flow lethargically onto the carpet. Claire dripped as much of her blood as possible into the hole she had created and started slapping the man's face trying desperately to get him to wake up.

A ragged gasp filled Noah's lungs with precious air and he grimaced as his body repaired itself. Claire hugged him frantically before dashing to a wheezing Mohinder. Another slash with the glass reopened her arm and the blood flowed into the bubbling bullet hole. A few seconds later the case popped itself from his chest and he sat upright with wide eyed awe at the hysterical blonde with the tear stained face. Peter was climbing to his feet, still choking a bit as he clutched at his throat.

Without a moment of hesitation Claire flung herself out the window where the others had disappeared. She landed a few feet from where Matt Parkman had been tossed. He was conscious, but his back had been broken, paralyzing him from the waist down. One more time, she ripped herself open to relieve the injuries of her friend. While he was busy healing her eyes darted around, looking for any sign of where Sylar had gone to with the Petrelli clone.

There was a loud crashing sound from somewhere over head and she looked up at the building across the alley way. A window in the top floor had been broken and now a long jagged crack was splitting the structural wall they faced. Fire belched out of the open window. She dashed for the fire escape that led up to the location of the brawl but was stopped when the two men burst through the roof of the neighboring complex. Sylar was dragging the man into the sky with him. Their tussle awkwardly continued in mid air with each wildly throwing punches and slashing at one another. And then Sylar let go.

Nathan's mimic plummeted to the ground below but floated himself just before impact. He made a mocking salute at them all and blurred away. Claire had noticed though before he had made his escape that the villain wasn't healing. It would take a long time for all the injuries Sylar had managed to inflict on him to heal and that would give them a distinct advantage.

Sylar landed on the street next to her and Matt, his blazing gaze still fixed on where his enemy had vanished. Barely saving a glance for what he was doing, Sylar grabbed Parkman and hurled him towards the window to Claire's apartment. She could hear him land inside with a loud thud and a stream of profanities. Her dark accomplice grabbed her up in his arms and levitated them through the window as well.

As they reconvened the atmosphere of the group changed dramatically. Half of them were rubbing sore spots where they're wounds had been, gaping at Sylar with concern and hesitation. He stood silently, clenching his fists at his side for a moment before deciding to lose his control on something inanimate. He rounded on the wall behind him and let a low snarl tear from his throat as his fist collided with the wall and exited the other side. As he dragged his hands down the wall, long gashes were torn like claw marks and the decorative paper peeled away, blistering with searing heat.

Claire tried to take his shoulders for comfort but he shrugged her away, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the cracked remains of the wall. There was a clicking sound of a gun and Claire turned to see Matt scowling Noah into putting his spare away. Peter stepped up, still flushed in the face, and leaned against the ravaged wall to look Sylar in the face.

"I failed," the dark man hissed under his breath.

"We're going to get him," Peter stated as a solemn promise.

"He can't heal. When he was running away, I saw it. It's going to take a while for him recover from that damage." Claire tried again to make contact with him and this time he allowed it. She started slowly with a hand on his back and then moved so that she stood in front of him, between his arms with her hands on his face. He wouldn't look at her.

"That just means that he's going to be coming for you again," he muttered darkly, clenching his teeth.

"We'll all be here to protect her."

"Like we just did?" Sylar snapped at Peter. Their forces had been decimated in less than a minute.

"Gab-"

"Don't call me that!" He screamed at her. Claire flinched back, dropping her hands from him, and then the fire began to burn in her eyes. She hauled her first back and smashed it into his face with enough force to send him flipping backward.

"Claire, what the hell?" Peter started.

Sylar jumped to his feet with electricity dancing chaotically in his hands. Matt and Mohinder glanced at one another nervously.

"You want to fight this guy? You want to put an end to all this?" Claire was shrieking at him, her force field rippling in her own hands. "Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself and snap the hell out of it!"

He paused, still glaring at her from under his thick eyebrows. The blue sparks faded away and his stance relaxed but his demeanor was still darkly brooding.

"Claire's right. This isn't over," Noah pitched.

"I need to find a speedster." Sylar whispered it to himself, but everyone was paying him a heavy enough amount of concentration that they all hear what he had said. "He's to fast."

"Sylar…" Claire looked at him with sad eyes, his own dropped to the floor.

"You know we can't let you do that," Noah piped in again.

"And how are you going to stop me?" He said with an agitated sneer.

"They're not going to. _I_ am," Claire moved directly in front of him, shimmering ripples of light in her hands.

They stared hard at one another for a long minute, neither relenting.

"Claire," he started to break, moving in until he could place his hands on either side of her jaw so that she was forced to keep looking him in the eye. "I have to be able to keep him from getting your power. I have to be able to protect you."

"I can take care of myself," she snipped at him.

"Not this time. I've seen it." He leaned so that his forehead lightly rested against hers.

"Can you do it without killing anyone?"

"I can try."

The way he looked at her just then was enough to make her heart skip a beat. So many bad things had happened to her recently. To them both. And as much of a destructive force of nature as he could be, his first instinct was to fix the broken things. Trying to stop him on this would lead to them fighting more which was never productive as a means of ending a villain. Claire knew that she had to let him go before any more bad could come along and finish destroying them both.

Her father coughed loudly, his way of telling them to break it up.

Sylar raised a brow and spread his deadly gaze over the other members of the group without breaking his contact with Claire.

"You should be running."

They all seemed to tick their heads to the side in unified confusion until Sylar pressed his mouth against hers. His message suddenly became very clear as one hand moved to the back of her neck and the other to her lower back so that he could hold her so dangerously close. Her hands shot up, fingers twisting through his hair. Mohinder stopped to gawk with scientific inquiry as the area around the couple seemed to spontaneously burst into flames. Peter grabbed the man and shoved him out the door seconds before the entire room was consumed by the inferno.


	15. Chapter 15

So who's ready for a small taste of what Miranda is all about?

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Claire…"

"Sylar," she gasped into his mouth as they barely parted for breath.

"We," he groaned as she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist. They stumbled forward until her back was pressed against the wall. Flames licked the sides of her barrier that protected them from the chaos of their own powers. "We," he started again, not quite able to make himself release her thighs as she trailed her kisses from his lips to his neck. "We need to stop," he finally managed to grunt as he desperately pushed away the thoughts of how thin the fabric of her sweats were in this compromising position.

"No," she whispered into his ear. Sweat from the rising heat of the wild fire they had started was rolling down his back. He placed an icy hand against the light of her shield and tendrils of frost sprang to life, curling and swirling around them.

"Yes," he mumbled even though he found himself gripping her leg harder and dotting her collar bone with kisses. "We're going to bring the whole building down if we don't."

"Let it burn," she whispered running her hands under his shirt and raking his back with her nails. The sweet sting of pain caused him to involuntarily dip and grind closer to her, making them both exhale in a shuddering gasp. His resolve was waning faster than he could gain it back.

_Sylar? Oh hell. Ugh. Seriously man?_

"What the hell do you want, Parkman?" Claire's hands were running up the back of his neck and through his hair as their mouths met again. A fresh explosion of fire burst into life, rippling over the ceiling.

_Right now I'd like to bleach my brain. But we have to get this fire under control before the department shows up._

Sylar slid his hands away from Claire and placed them on the wall behind her so that he was leaning against it.

"I'm going to have to kill you one of these days, Matt," he said with a internal glare as she grabbed his hips, looking expectantly up at him.

_I think I might have to kill myself after this. What has been seen cannot be unseen._

He had to force himself to retrieve her hands as she attempted to pull him closer again. He leaned in to give her one last peck and then set about dousing the entirety of her apartment in a layer of frost to snuff the flames out. When it was safe again he ventured into the burnt remains of her bathroom and she giggled at his rigid gait.

"That was… interesting," Peter said popping his head back into the apartment.

"Whatever," Matt groaned, rubbing at his eyes as he followed him inside.

"I'd like to test that in the lab," Mohinder said with his ever present scientific fascination.

"Mohinder, that's disgusting," Sylar remarked through the door of the bathroom.

"Are you alright in there?" Claire called out to him with an impish grin.

"I'll be fine in a minute… or two." Everyone cracked up into broken laughter and stifled snickers.

"Oh shut up," he grumbled poking his head out the door. Claire nailed him in the face with a snowball that she had swept up from the floor. He wrinkled his nose at it and lobbed one in her direction with his telekinesis. She dodged the icy projectile, giggling as he slammed the door shut again.

"Where did my dad go?"

"He had to go get some quiet time. Seeing you and Sylar together… He headed back to the department's headquarters." Peter flipped a stubborn lock of hair out of his eyes, not entirely sure that he was comfortable with the arrangement either. Claire rolled her eyes and sighed even though she understood the concerns perfectly.

After a few minutes Sylar reentered the room, still walking slightly stiff but much more functional than before. Matt started to snicker again but a warning glare had him covering it up as a cough.

"So much for my deposit," Claire mumbled as she examined the extent of the damage to her home. Sylar looked around as well, digging the loose change from his pocket. He glanced at the small handful of coins with a little disdain as though it were all the money he had in the world. He closed his fist over them for a second and reopened it to show coins of solid gold.

"This should help you get a start on the repairs," he said tossing the clinking gold pieces to her. There was something left over in his pocket. Something left completely forgotten in the events that unfolded since it found its way there. Sylar fished out a slim blue flash drive and held it up, marveling at how the small computer device had survived all the abuse that he had been through recently. "Miranda," he said quietly.

Peter perked up with the mention of the name and his eyes locked on the drive.

"Did you find anything on this?" He addressed Claire only assuming that she had since she had ordered him to rescue the chip before herself.

"More than I can understand," she said darkly, remembering what little she had managed to sift through. She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, closing her eyes and conjuring images of the files for him to see. His eyelids fluttered as her thoughts flashed through his mind. Mohinder watched closely, taking mental notes of their silent communications.

"I thought she was a girl? The Russian said she hadn't even been born yet. So what does she have to do with us?" He wondered aloud as he opened his eyes again.

"I already told you, Claire. Miranda doesn't have anything to do with you guys. And it's not even possible that she hasn't been born yet because she's here. An adult. Probably about your age," Peter said in a huff, crossing his arms while his brow furrowed with exasperation.

"He's not lying," Sylar said turning to look at her. "At least not as far as he knows."

"I just saw it too, Peter. Everything on that drive is about them," Matt said turning in confusion to the Petrelli. Peter cocked his head slightly to the side, trying to read Claire's mind. He sighed in frustration before turning to punch the wall behind him. His fist went through the structure easily.

"Damn. I must have taken Mohinder's power when I pulled him out of the room." His face quickly turned from irritation to an expression of deep sadness. He tried so hard not to let on how much it bothered him that he could only retain one ability at a time anymore. Before his father had drained his power from him, Peter had been an empath to be reckoned with. He had had an array of abilities that rivaled Sylar's. And now he had to fight feelings of inadequacy because he frequently lost the powers he needed to ones that weren't exactly beneficial for what he wanted to do. As much as he loved Emma, coming up with her siren's ability when he needed strength or flight or even Parkman's telepathic capabilities was in no way convenient for anyone. At least the others that only had one power were able to retain it long enough to master the ability. He didn't even feel able to complete that much.

Sylar's eyes followed Peter's motions to recapture Matt's ability by touching the man. His mind began turning with mechanical ideas.

"I don't understand… They told me that Miranda was here. They showed me a picture of her. She's supposed to be extremely powerful and everyone that knows about her is terrified of what she can do. Why would they make a mission about you guys under her name?" Peter slumped down into the charred remains of a chair that creaked with worry under his weight.

"For starters, who is 'they', Peter?" Mohinder jumped into the fray of confusion.

"A group from Kline Enterprises. It's a private company that's been working on 'special' related research for decades. They were tied into the Company, Pinehearst, and anyone else that worked in our field. And now they supply the majority of funding for the D.S.R.E.C. in exchange for research cooperation and political support of 'special' legislation. Basically they're lobbyists but they work to our favor."

"Kline," Claire said turning to look at Sylar. "My partner, Chris, his first partner was killed in an ambush set up by someone named Kline."

"That doesn't make any sense, Claire. The president of a major corporation who is on our side would not be setting up our people to die. They're the good guys," Peter said shaking his head.

"Like the Company and Pinehearst were the good guys?" Sylar jabbed.

"Time travel," Claire blurted out. Everyone turned to her for an explanation. "What if she can travel through time like Hiro? That would explain how she could be here even if she hasn't actually been born yet."

"That would make sense. It's a very powerful ability," Sylar agreed.

"The file said that the catalyst was needed to create Miranda. I'm the catalyst. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but now it all makes sense. Someone wants to take my power so that this Miranda _thing_ can be made. They're engineering a weapon. And if they're afraid of her, that probably means that the program goes wrong in the future. Just like it always does." Claire turned to Sylar who automatically took her in his arms. He gently stroked her hair as she buried her face in his chest.

"Wait, I thought Hiro was the catalyst and then dad took it from him? He died. The catalyst was gone so how did it end up in you?" Peter quizzed as he rubbed at his temples.

"I guess it chooses where to go somehow," she said with her voice muffled.

"Destiny," Mohinder mumbled to himself with a smirk.

"All that means is that there's one more group of people out there after Claire. _Again," _Sylar said raising her chin so that she would have look at him. "How do you always manage to get into so much trouble?"

"It's an ability," she tried to joke, but her voice cracked with the stress of the revelation.

"If it's Claire they're after though, why would so much information on that drive be about Sylar?" Matt asked, scratching at the little bit of stubble that had started to appear on his chin from the lack of spare time to shave.

"Because I protect her." Sylar quipped with just a hint of acid in his tone.

"Because he can transfer power from one person to another," Mohinder said mentally slapping another puzzle piece into place for himself. "He took Claire's ability and later gave her a new one. If he can extract Claire's power for this Miranda person…"

"They probably figure that he would be able to give her more of his own power too, the way he did with Claire. Imagine one person with all of Sylar's abilities and Claire's too," Peter chimed.

"That would be scary," Matt stated with a touch of fear creeping into his voice.

"And taking their relationship into account would only make things easier for them. If they take Claire, Sylar is going to follow getting them both captured somehow where they can be manipulated into cooperating," Mohinder sighed, sinking his head as low as it would go with resignation.

"One final question though. Why would the mimic work to separate us all and then point us in the direction of the people that want to use us?" Sylar asked, his brain refusing to fit that bit of information into the picture they had worked out so far.

* * *

Sylar shifted his weight from one foot to another as he traced the charred edges of the doorframe. He couldn't bring himself to look her in eye, knowing what he would have to do.

"Your still leaving, aren't you," she stated as more of a fact than an actual question. Her bright baby blues refused to release him as she crossed her arms in defiance.

"I have to."

"Even knowing that some power crazed group of corporation cronies is probably going to try to abduct me the second you're gone?"

"Claire, the mimic has to heal somehow. He's going to be coming back for you." She sighed, starting to turn away.

"You don't know that."

"I do. I've painted it a hundred times. I'm kneeling over you with your head cut open."

"How do you know it's because of him? How do you know it's not because you're going to do it yourself when we play into their stupid scheme?"

"Because it's what I would have done," he dropped his eyes to the floor when she winced at the idea. "I just know that I have to do this, Claire."

"Whatever," she said with a little venom, waving a hand at him as she began to walk away.

"Hey!" he said catching her hand and pulling her back to him. "I'm doing this for you. Everything I've done for I don't even know how long now, has been about you. If I can get a speedster's power it's only going to make it easier to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected! I'm tired of being protected, Sylar! I want to be able to do something about this."

"I know. And we will. Just one problem at a time." His eyes burned into hers with intensity.

"Just go if you're going to," she hissed, slapping at his chest and marching away. His gaze followed her until she entered her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, shaking flakes of ashes to the blackened carpet below.

"What are we supposed to do until you get back? We weren't exactly great at stopping this guy before," Matt glowered at him. They were all looking at him distastefully. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but he knew the shared concern was what was driving them to do it. And the fact that they were watching his reformation drift away slowly but surely probably didn't help the situation.

"I wouldn't leave her like this if I didn't have a plan, Parkman," he said rubbing the little space in between his eyebrows where all the tension seemed to focus. "You're all going to take her back to headquarters. With all the agents running around there on high alert it's the safest place we're going to find."

"Yeah, because the bad guy was never able to get in there," Matt snorted.

"It's what we've got, damn it! If you can come up with a better idea, please feel free to share!" Sylar snapped a bit.

"We'll be fine, Matt. Like Claire said, the mimic doesn't have the ability to heal. Sylar will be back before he is," Peter piped up in defense of the dark man he had formed a tentative friendship with. Three sets of eyes looked at him for confirmation.

"I already know where to find the guy I need. I'll be back as soon as possible." Sylar took one last look at the door to Claire's bedroom and turned his back to leave. "Peter, come with me for a minute."

Petrelli followed him quietly down the hall outside until they reached the junction that would lead either to the stairs or the elevators.

"What's going on?" Peter asked with some concern, wondering why Sylar would want a private audience with him like this.

"Following the plan," he said darkly, twitching his fingers so that Peter flew into the wall, cracking his head and falling to the floor unconscious.

* * *

"You haven't reported back to me in a while. How are the results from the testing process?"

"All going according to plan, sir," Nathan Petrelli answered with a grimace as he gingerly adjusted the bandage wrappings over a very burnt arm. The man had certainly endured grievous injuries at the hands of Sylar. Nearly every inch of his body had been burnt, broken, cut, bruised or some combination of them all. He was lucky to have survived the encounter, barely as it were.

"Good," the man in the suit answered curtly as though he had already known what the reply to his question would be.

"Sir, would you mind," another painful wince, "healing me now, please?"

"Yes. I suppose that is in order now, isn't it. You have many miles to go before you sleep, don't you." It was hard to gauge the man's age. He had the form of a man who may have only recently reached into his thirty's but there was something about the hardiness in his piercing blue eyes and the way that he carried himself that suggested an age much beyond what he appeared. His light blonde hair was always neatly combed into place and his clothing was always of the highest quality. He was a man of power. True, unspoken, power.

He crossed the distance around his ornately carved desk to the Petrelli clone sitting in the chair facing him. His nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of Nathan bleeding a bit onto the expensive white fabric. With a half hearted sigh he took a letter pen and lightly raked the pointed tip across the palm of his hand until a small amount of blood dripped from the wound. Only two drops of the precious life giving fluid landed on Nathan's burnt flesh, but it was enough. The man gasped with joyous relief as his injuries disappeared.

"I must ask why you insist on staying in that ridiculous form even while you're not meeting your assigned objectives," the blonde man asked with a certain amount of snootiness.

"I like it. It makes me special," Nathan answered with genuine enthusiasm.

"You're still not 'special' enough to confront Gabriel Gray," the blonde man stated with blatant disappointment, tapping on the corner of his desk as he returned to his regal black leather chair.

"I can hold my own," the mimic contested bitterly.

The man before him clasped his fingers together, peaking an eyebrow with doubt at his employee's assurance.

"Miranda," he called quietly but with the confidence of a man who really had seen it all. A young willowy woman suddenly appeared at his side, causing the Petrelli impostor to nearly jump from his seat. "Our friend here needs a power infusion if you would be so kind." She ticked her head to side, staring at something invisible in the air just above their heads. "Miranda," he urged again patiently. She made her way to Nathan with an odd swaying gait, more like a dance than a walk, taking two steps where only one was needed.

She placed her hands on either side of the mimic's chair and leaned over him, entering his personal space, studying his false appearance and making him extremely uncomfortable. It wasn't just the invasion of his aura that made him squirm though. It was a cocktail of intense fascination and good old fashioned fear.

"Now, Miranda, remember what I said? You do want to see your parents alive again, don't you?" the blonde man prodded her again.

"Butterflies!" she giggled, her feral eyes growing just slightly more wild. The girl pointed a long pale finger at Nathan and he shuddered. Very slowly she reached her finger out to him, as he subconsciously attempted to shrink further into the chair, until the very tip of her skin made contact with the end of his nose. "Boop!" she sang.

Nathan shuddered again, but much more violently as a surge of energy rippled through his body. His eyes opened wide, flooding a pure black and the veins that were visibly exposed began to darken and harden, flowing with power. He held his hands up before himself and stared in open wonder at them like a man getting high on some potent drug.

"I do believe you have more work to do now," the blonde man said with a hint of a sneer, clearly annoyed that the other man was still present.

"Yes, Mr. Kline," he answered obediently, still observing his new found strength with awe.


	16. Chapter 16

Personal apologies to everyone who had gotten used to daily updates. I blame muse related shenanigans since another story idea popped into my head and I had to start getting it down before I lost it. Anyways, here's the next installment. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

Mohinder glanced at his watch again for the third time since Sylar had left with Peter tagging along. His eyes narrowed at the shiny time piece as he tapped on the glass before raising it to his hear. It had stopped ticking and the dial hands seemed to have randomly spun around and frozen in place.

"How long as he been gone now?" Matt asked starting to get anxious about moving back to the department base. They would have already left ages ago if Claire hadn't thrown a temper tantrum over abandoning Peter.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps we should start looking for him?"

"Please don't say that loud enough for _her_ to hear," Matt muttered under his breath as his head sunk back into his hands. He kicked idly at the melting frost on the floor wishing he had brought a coat.

_We should be patient with her. She's had an extraordinarily bad day._

"Yeah, I know. I just wish she would understand that we're not exactly sitting peachy here either. You've been shot. I had my back broken. We're sitting ducks here without back up and I'm missing dinner. Janice was going to make lasagna tonight," he whimpered.

_Yes, it is getting on towards the dinner hour. If Peter isn't back in the next half hour or so we should go ahead and leave. If for no other reason than to find food. She may not be quite as irritable if she has something in her stomach and a place to rest._

"And how are we supposed to get her out of there? Even between the two of us she's not exactly the kind of girl we can drag kicking and screaming."

_Good point. I'll try calling him again._

Mohinder plucked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number for Peter. It rang once and went straight to voice mail, again. He didn't even bother leaving another message.

Claire was stuck in a mental rut. She would stand in her bedroom staring vacantly at her soggy and burnt bed for several minutes and then repeat the same act in her bathroom, staring at the position that Sylar had come to comfort her at. After he had left the over whelming sensation of abandonment had pooled inside of her as it had that morning when she woke up alone. The logical side of her brain knew that what she was doing was stupid, but the more emotionally involved half was still struggling to cope. She had at least changed from her smoke damaged sweats into a more adaptive outfit that had escaped the fire, tucked away in the bottom of her dresser but the clothing was still poorly matched and loose fitting. This, she felt, was still a step towards improvement though.

* * *

Peter started to groan, coming back from his rudely induced nap time.

"Don't move," Sylar instructed, placing a firm blood caked hand on his shoulder.

"Where am I and what the hell are you doing to me?" he said feeling a slight tug at the top of his head, followed by a strange sensation of pressure.

"This is the boiler room of your niece's apartment complex and I'm fixing you."

Peter suddenly noticed a wet dripping sound against plastic. He was laid out on some kind of work table in a dank room with only one dingy bulb to supply light.

"What do you mean, you're 'fixing' me?" he asked becoming alarmed.

"Don't move," the dark man insisted again. There was another odd sensation of light burning on his tongue. "I'm attempting to restore your full empathic ability. You're not exactly useful for protecting Claire when you can only hold one unpredictable power at a time, Peter."

"Please tell me that this is some kind of weird joke or nightmare and you're not actually playing with my brain right now."

Sylar's face hovered over his at an upside down angle.

"I'm not 'playing' with your brain, Peter. Feel better?"

"The guy I thought I could finally trust just knocked me out, cut my head open and started crossing wires without my permission. No, Sylar. I don't feel _better_." Low chuckling sounded behind him.

"I'm pretty sure that this isn't something you would have given your permission for no matter how much you may come to trust me."

"This isn't something you're putting in me from you, like what you did to Claire, is it? We're not going to have some kind of weird connection or anything…" Sylar laughed again at his uncomfortable tone.

"No, Peter. I'm just… _tweaking_ what was already there."

"What's that all about anyways?"

"What? The connection?"

"Yeah."

"I can't say that I fully understand it myself. The only thing that I can think of is that it's something like what I went through when Parkman… separated my mind from my body."

Peter looked back darkly on the memory of how his mother had made the telepath force his brother's consciousness into Sylar's mind after his death. They had thought that somehow it would resolve the situation if Nathan could live on and the man before him now, would not. Of course, like all the little half-witted schemes of that fashion, it back fired in more than one way.

"The mind and the body are connected to one another, even when separated. I felt… incomplete. I was driven to find that connection again. Since I took a part of Claire, and then gave her a piece of myself in the transaction it created a different but also somewhat similar scenario."

"I guess that explains a few things. What's it like?"

"I can sense when she's nearby. We can always find one another if we concentrate hard enough. We share pain to some extent so I know when she's in danger or sad. And no, I never planned on that happening."

Peter was silent and still as much as possible for a long time. And then his fingers started twitching of their own accord just before his toes started to seize. He writhed, not in pain, but from a purely involuntary spasm of his muscles from the signals being sent through his exposed brain.

"I think that should do it," Sylar said, placing the top part of Peter's skull back in place and watching as the bone knit back together and the cut flesh sealed itself shut. "Welcome back to the immortal club, Peter."

He sat back up on the table and swung his legs over the side, reaching a set of fingers up to wipe a drip of blood away from his temple. Sylar placed his hand on Peter's shoulder and silently transferred the collection of his power. He flexed his hands and marveled at the familiar hot tingle of the blue lightning crackling in his palm.

"How do you know that I'm not going to use this to stop you?" Peter asked as Sylar turned and quietly headed for the exit.

"I guess I don't," the dark man chuckled without looking back. He paused with his hand on the door handle, "Take care of her, Peter." The somber tone of his voice said everything that Petrelli needed to know. And then Sylar was gone.

He looked around himself at the massive blood pool that had formed over the sheet of plastic on the ground. "At least he made it easy to clean up," he whispered to himself. Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket again.

* * *

"What do you mean, he 'fixed' you?" Matt was genuinely concerned as the group strolled up to the security clearance check point of the department's main building. The facility was still on high alert since the incident with the mimic. Everyone had to have to their finger pricked for a blood sample that was then sent through a screening system to match their DNA against what was listed on their personal profiles before they were admitted entrance. "Ouch," he groaned as the medical aid squeezed a drop of blood onto a slim white square.

"I mean he fixed me. It was terrifying but great all at the same time. I haven't felt this… _alive_ since before my power was taken from me."

"Does that mean that he like," he made a crude illustration of his finger running over his forehead with a throaty buzzing sound. "You're a far braver man than I am, Peter," he said with a wince at the nod of confirmation.

Mohinder glowered at the young aid when she came to take his blood and he took the needle instrument for himself. He helped take Claire's sample and then his own before handing over the required materials. She was still locked into a mental daze and barely responsive.

"Um, we have a problem here," one of the aids said waving to her supervisor as she stared at the screen awaiting confirmation of identity. A tall man in a long white coat came over to inspect the situation and his eyes darted back and forth between the group and his screen.

"You've got to be kidding me," Matt sighed with exasperation.

"Wait, you can't seriously think?" Peter leaned over the counter to look at what the medical staff were seeing. "Matt?"

"I'm not _him_," he said backing away with his hands held out defensively in front of him. "Peter, Mohinder, come on guys, you know me. I'm not him!"

"Matt Parkman has already passed through screening today," the man in the white lab coat flipped the switch that set the alarms.

"Security breach, sector one. Security breach, sector one," the automated alarm voice crowed as the flashing yellow lights blazed to life and the facility went into lock down mode. All of the doors and windows clattered to a close, fastening in place so that no one could enter or exit. Armed security guards filtered into the check point and positioned themselves around the group with their weapons drawn.

"No, no this a mistake! I'm Matt Parkman!"

* * *

Sylar strolled through the quiet Chicago back street until he found the tavern he had been looking for. The quaint little pub winked a soft warm light to him through the windows. He listened for lines of thought inside and only detected two. One of which he was specifically seeking. With only a moment's hesitation for what he was about to do, he cracked the door and stepped inside with purpose.

"Well, if ain't my old buddy, Sylar, the impotent serial killer," Edgar scoffed at him from his bar stool, taking a deep swig from his shot glass before slamming it down on the old wooden counter. He waved at the barkeep for a round of beers as Sylar saddled up to the stool beside him. "I hear you're working for the man now. Got yourself a nice cushy job chasing down the bad guys and what not," he chuckled at the thought for a moment, but carefully watched his visitor take a sip from his beer out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know that I would call it 'cushy' but yes, I _was_ working for the D.S.R.E.C. for a while."

"Was, as in you ain't carrying a badge and a _license_ to kill no more?"

"I get the feeling that you already knew that, Edgar." The speedster slammed another shot of tequila down his throat and tapped on the glass. "I also get the feeling that you knew I would be coming for you here."

"Nothing gets past you, does it now." Sylar took another drink of his beer.

"So, if you knew I was going to find you, and what I'm going to do to you, why would you stay?"

"Because you ain't the scariest thing going bump in the night these days, mate."

"And who is?"

Edgar shook his head firmly displaying a reluctance to share his information.

"Look at you now. I knew you were about a love struck fool when you went gallivanting about with that tatt on your arm there, but just _look_ at you now. Willing to do anything to save the girl that _can't _die," the speedster laughed again, pouring himself another shot and sliding it over to Sylar before he decided to just drink straight from the bottle.

"Tell me what you know," he demanded in a menacing tone to low for anyone else to hear.

"I know that everything ain't what it seems anymore. Not when Kline has a new toy running about the place."

"How do you know about Kline?" Edgar chuckled again. His eyes were a glassy pink tint from the amount of alcohol he was consuming.

"Specials might be running around in public now but our world is still small, mate. Word travels. Kline's a nasty old bugger. One of the originals they say and fancies himself pretty highly to boot. And now that he's got his claws into _her_… There ain't no telling what he'll do."

"And who is 'her'?"

"Miranda, they call her," Edgar grinned into the mouth of his liquor bottle. "Scariest damn bitch alive is what _I_ call her. Showed up at the carnival not to long after the throng died out. Took a skip through the hall of mirrors before she found me," he took a prolonged drink of the tequila. "Came prancing up to me like a little girl or something. Crazy bitch is always staring at shit that isn't there, talking to people who ain't there. She touched me, laid her hand right on me," he said gesturing to his chest, "felt like she was going rip my soul straight out my body. Said something about 'he'll need this' and poofed right out of thin air like she was never there in the first place. I'll never forget those eyes either. Wild. Something down right feral about that woman."

Sylar traced the mouth of his bottle silently.

"You going to kill me now?"

"Do I have to?"

Edgar bellowed out a low laugh and finished it with an awkward snort.

"I suppose that's up to you now, isn't it?" He pulled the pair of kukri swords that were always present on his belt and laid them out on the counter. Sylar polished off the shot he had been handed and chugged the rest of his beer for a chaser. The two men eyed one another carefully for a long moment.

Edgar got the jump on him, with a blur the swords were in his hands and he stood behind Sylar with both blades poised at his neck. The dark man chuckled and reached for the tequila bottle allowing the razor sharp edges to slice shallow cuts into his skin. The wounds had healed before he could take a swig of the liquor.

"Bullocks," Edgar groaned, blurring to the other side of the bar, stance ready for counter attack with the bottle that he had stolen from Sylar's grasp in hand. He bellowed another low laugh as he finished off the tequila and chucked the empty bottle at his visitor's head. Sylar ducked and the glass fragmented over the wall behind him.

"Now you're making this personal, Edgar," Sylar said, charging up a bolt of blue lightning in his hand.

* * *

"Wait! This is a mistake! Trust me, that is the real Matt Parkman! The shifter is already here," Peter shouted in defense of his friend. The guards trained their weapons on him.

"Peter, how do we know? How can we be sure that any of us are who we say we are?" Mohinder was scowling in Parkman's direction with his hands held up complacently.

"Are you kidding me? Come on, man! You've been with me the entire day!" Matt shouted with fear in his eyes. He couldn't be sure that he could stop all of the guards before one of them was shot down.

"Yes, I know who _you_ are, Matt. But what about…" he allowed his eyes to trail to Peter to finish his question. "He mysteriously disappears and then comes back with all of Sylar's powers and a story about how he was fixed…"

"Peter?" Matt turned conspiratorially on the man beside him.

"This guy is really starting to piss me off," Claire growled under her breath, suddenly snapping back to reality. She spread her gaze over the still amassing group of guards and took a bold step forward. One of them bravely pointed his gun at her and cocked it, ready to fire. "You think that's going to stop me? Go ahead and try," she snarled at the man stepping forward again.

"Claire, don't," Peter implored her.

She charged up her hands with her force field's energy and made a grab for the gun, yanking it from him and swinging the weapon at him like a bat. He crumpled to the floor as the other guards discharged their ammo on her. Claire raised her barrier and stopped the deadly projectiles in the air around her.

_Duck._

"Claire, no! Get down!" Peter screamed, pulling Matt and Mohinder to the floor a second before the bullets were turned back around and released to find their owners. At least two dozen guards had been summoned by the bleating alarm, and now they were all laid out on the floor of the lobby, writhing in pain. Claire merely stepped over the pile of bodies and marched on past the check point without looking back.

"Oh, my," Suresh said surveying the damage.

* * *

Noah Bennett and Chris McKinley met her in the hall as they jogged from the office sector.

"Claire!" Noah greeted her with a fatherly hug. "We heard the alarms go off. What's going on?"

"The shifter is here. Somehow he duped the screening process and checked in under Matt's name."

"We're in full lock down now. If he's here, he isn't getting out," Chris chirped with his usual enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I guess so," Claire mumbled with a menacing look in her eyes as she turned on her partner. Before Noah could blink she had the young man by the throat against the wall, lifting him as high from the floor as her stature would allow.

"Claire, what are you doing?" her father demanded in alarm as he watched Chris clutch at her hand, choking.

"What were you and you're partner doing when you got ambushed by Kline's men?"

McKinley could only gurgle a response while his face turned a vibrant shade of reddish purple. She dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and loomed over him with her foot planted on his chest as he gasped for air.

"We were on a mission," he coughed out.

"What mission? What was the objective? Who was your target?" she screamed at him.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on!" Noah barked.

"We were called out. A speedster was playing wrecking crew and we were supposed to stop him."

"Claire?"

"And how did you know that the speedster worked for Kline?"

Chris stopped heaving under her foot and started to chuckle darkly.

"Funny how you showed up just before all of this started happening, isn't it Chris? Funny how my partner and yours went out of play at the same time? Funny how you just happen to have access to everything the Petrelli mimic has needed so far."

Noah was starting to catch on now. He turned his gun on McKinley.

"My boss is going to be so pissed," Chris cackled maniacally.

"Just tell me one thing," she said removing her foot from his chest so that she could bend down over her partner. "How did you heal?"

The mimic didn't have time to answer her. The security contingent had recovered and come to take Claire into their custody. He morphed into Noah's form and snatched the other man in a blur.

* * *

"This is completely ridiculous," Mohinder repeated himself with a bitter scowl on his face.

"You can't seriously keep us here. We didn't do anything!" Matt shouted at the guards hauling the group towards the prison ward.

"I have to get back to my niece. She's in danger!" Peter screamed just behind the other two.

_Peter, you have to distract them. I can get us out of this, but I need some breathing room._

Peter nodded and stopped dead in his tracks. The guards flanking him pulled on his arms to get him to move again but were unable to budge him.

"Peter Petrelli, you and your accomplices are already being charged with multiple counts of assault on a federal agent. Do you really want to add resisting arrest to the list?"

Fortunately none of the agents that Claire had attacked were killed or they may have been executed instead of simply taken into custody. Their armor had negated most of the damage and the few that had been shot were promptly healed by Peter.

"I told you that I have to get back to my niece," Peter said with a hardening expression. The operatives quickly moved into a circular formation around the men and readied their weapons.

_What you saw in the lobby was an elaborate illusion set up as a test. Congratulations, you all passed. Now the exercise is over and we're going to walk away. You're going to forget where we went._

"So, are we going to get a commendation for this?" one of the guards asked with a dopey grin.

"Yeah, sure," Matt smirked as he tugged on Peter's arm to lead them away.

* * *

Sylar dropped to his knees as Edgar blurred behind him, slashing at the tendons in his calves. With another flash of movement his chin was jerked upward and one of the kukri swords was forced into the back of his head at the base where the kill spot would have normally resided.

"I told you not to make this personal, Edgar," Sylar groaned as he yanked the blade from his skull.

"Sneaky bastard you are, mate."

With another blur the speedster was back at the other end of the room dodging bolts of lightning and giggling like a mad man as he did. Sylar was starting to get irritated now. He put his hands down on the floor and started heating it up as hot as he could without setting it on fire. Edgar started yipping as the heat spread and burnt his feet. He ran up the side of the wall with enough speed to keep his gravity defying momentum going across the ceiling to where he stood behind the dark man again. Sylar turned and stopped the pair of blades in mid air as they were thrown at his back and reverted them back to their owner, digging them deep into the wall when Edgar dodged the attack again.

The speedster retrieved his blades and stopped to give Sylar an appraising glance. His eyes followed the shredded shirt of his adversary down to the tattoo that would have been concealed by the long sleeve had it not been stripped away.

"Surely not. Couldn't be that easy, could it?" he mused to himself. Edgar yipped again as he crossed the steaming hot floor and slashed at the inked arm. Sylar winced in pain as a long gash was torn across Claire's face and waved his wrist at the man, tacking him to the wall. He mentally jerked the swords from his hands and buried them in the bar counter.

Sylar lurched forward awkwardly as the multitude of cuts and slashes his counter part had inflicted healed. He raised his fingers towards the speedster's head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered under his breath. And then the hunger set in, screaming up his spine, raking its claws over his being with deeper lacerations than the speedster could have ever done to him. The dark need filled his mind with fog and all he could focus on was the want and desperate craving to understand the ability and to take it for himself.

Edgar started shrieking in pain, futily thrashing against the invisible bonds holding him to the wall. A thin red line crept across his forehead, blood dripping from the wound. But Sylar paused to grasp at some imaginary hand taking hold of his heart, squeezing it violently and clouding his vision for a moment. He doubled over from the pain for a second.

_Claire._

Sylar allowed Edgar to fall to the floor and stumbled over to him. "You're coming with me," he muttered darkly, grabbing a fist full of the speedster's shirt and hauling him forcefully out the door.

* * *

Two Noah's were now facing Claire and a very confused unit of armed agents who didn't seem quite sure of which target to be pointing their guns at.

"Claire, I'm your father! You know me!"

"No, Claire! I'm your father! You have to help me, please!"

"Claire!"

"Claire! You know who I am, please!"

She was so confused. The faces and voices were identical and both sets of eyes were pleading with her in desperation. Which one was the real Noah Bennett?

The two men started fighting one another, punching wildly, trying to gain control over the situation. "Claire!" they shouted her name simultaneously.

"Claire, you have to shoot us."

"Shoot us both, it's the only way to make sure."

"You can bring me back, Claire!"

"Do it! Kill us!"

Claire turned to one of the guards behind her and grabbed the man's pistol away from him, aiming the weapon at the Noah's. She felt like she knew which one was real but her confidence was low at best. She knew that one of them had been right. If she did kill her real father she could bring him with an infusion of her blood, but that didn't stop her hands from shaking. After they were both dead maybe a DNA sample could give an identity confirmation. Suddenly the guards' fire arms were trained on her. The pressure was mounting and any second she would break under it.

"Claire, do it! Kill us! Kill us both!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered as the tears began to stream from her eyes. She clenched them shut so tight that spots started to drift behind her eyelids and she pulled the trigger. The jolt of the banging sound reverberated through her body and choked a sob from her swollen throat.

Pressure points started to riddle her body, striking at her every angle from behind. Claire fell to her knees, deafened by the endless assault of gunfire echoing through the hall way. Blood was flowing freely over the floor beneath her, saturating her pants and soaking into her socks. As the bright red carpet rushed up at her, she saw the bullet she had fired, paused in the air in front of a smirking Noah. The brass projectile changed course and buried itself deep within the chest of her other father, sending him crumpling to the floor beside her. She looked into his eyes, glazing over with death and tried to scream, but no sound would come out.

The mimic sneered at the unit of operatives and flicked his wrist in their direction, sending them all crashing violently into the walls. There was a muffled clatter of metal falling as bullets pushed their way from Claire's flesh and the wounds healed. He stooped over to pick her up, scooping her into his arms.

The body morphed back into the visage of Chris McKinley and he began to carry her away from the horrific scene while she punched at his chest, kicking the air and screaming through her tears. Somewhat absent mindedly he plucked a set of figurines from his pocket and tossed them at Noah's body.

When her fanatical thrashing became to much for him to hold her in place, he set her down and pressed her against the wall with his body. Chris took her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"Claire, I need you to listen to me before the others show up. Your father will be fine. Peter Petrelli is going to heal him. Claire!" he shouted at her, gripping her face harder as she tried to turn away from him. "Listen to me! Nothing is what it seems, Claire. Nothing! You have to trust me right now. I'm not the bad guy that you think I am. Well, okay, I am," he retorted when she let a disgusted snort loose, "but you have to choose me when they come. If you want your friends to live and Sylar to live, you have to choose me."

His grasp on her face softened as his eyes combed over her features. He tucked a rogue lock of hair behind her ear and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I know why he loves you so much now," he whispered, sneaking in a long deep breath of the scent at her neck. The mimic took her hand and laced their fingers together as he lead her away.

Peter, Matt and Mohinder ran around the corner approaching the lobby area and nearly collided with the pair.

"Claire! Are you okay? What happened?" Peter rushed his questions as he swooped in for a hug, eyeing the pile of bodies behind them. Chris reluctantly let go of her but carefully kept his eye contact the entire time.

"Oh my God, Claire. Please tell me you didn't do this," Matt muttered, also finding the grotesque scene. Suresh stifled a throaty gag.

"The Petrelli mimic killed all the guards. He shape shifted into Mr. B's form again and tried to get Claire. He's dead now. It's over," Chris mumbled, feigning shock and confusion. Peter rushed over to the dead Noah and check for a pulse. He systematically went about searching for signs of life in the pile, putting his medical training to work subconsciously.

"Someone should go find the real Mr. B and make sure that he's okay. I'm going to take Claire home. It's been a rough day and I think she could use a little rest," he explained, never releasing her from his deadly gaze.

"He's right. I want to go home now," she responded robotically, fighting the urge to scream again.

"Claire, are you sure you're alright?" Peter asked, jumping up to embrace her again.

"I'm fine, Peter. Chris is going to take care of me," she tried her best to give a weak smile. Her uncle passed her strange behavior off as symptoms of shock and let her go.

"We should go look for Noah," Matt motioned to Mohinder who nodded in agreement.

McKinley took her hand again and lead her away calmly, squeezing her fingers lightly as Peter returned to the task of reviving the guards. The pair came to the remains of the security check point and encountered more guards milling about, enforcing the lock down.

"Please don't kill them," she whispered under her breath.

"I won't have to," he whispered back cryptically.

* * *

Trees warped and twisted dangerously, on the verge of snapping as he passed over them. Sylar pushed himself harder, breaking his maximum flight speed as he hurdled himself back to the department's headquarters. He chanced a glance downward and saw Edgar zipping along the ground, trailing only a short ways behind him. The lights of the campus appeared and he began to slow into a descent. As he landed on the black top in front of the building the speedster sidled up next to him, eyes darting around the place, swords at the ready.

Sylar looked around the area in front of the main building and examined the teaming activity of bright yellow alarm lights dancing around and armed units patrolling the perimeter without straying to far. The facility was in full lock down mode.

"How were you planning on busting into this joint?" Edgar mumbled as a small armored vehicle stopped by the front door.

"My way," Sylar smirked back at him. Claire was inside and in danger. There would be no hesitations to do what was necessary.

He marched up to the armored car with purpose and mentally lifted it from the ground, threw it and sent it crashing into the pavement several yards away. Arches of lightning cracked through the air and sent a group of operatives seizing. A flick of his wrist put another wave flying over the top of the building. Gun shots rang through the air and he paused as a slug dug into his shoulder.

"I really hate being shot at," he sneered. Necks were snapping and throats were being ripped open as the body count rose with a fevered pitch. Edgar felt his jaw drop with the sight of absolute devastation being wreaked. He knew his dark acquaintance was a killer but watching him… pissed off was morbidly impressive. Guards continued to fly through the air as broken, burnt and maimed pieces of meat until Sylar reached the door.

Heavy iron bars had been drawn over the hermetically sealing doors to secure the entrance. The muscles in Sylar's neck contorted painfully as he gripped the bars and tore the gate the away. Then he stepped back and charged up a red hot pulse in his hands and released it at the door, blowing a gaping hole in the side of the building. Edgar followed silently as the dark man marched through the smoky opening.

* * *

Claire crawled to her feet, coughing from the smoke and waving a hand in front of her face in an attempt to clear the dusty haze away. Chris stood pensively at her side, flashing a suggestive look at her from the corners of his eyes as he held his hand out for her to take. She briefly thought about drawing her force field to throw at him until he lightly shook his head in the negative.

"Remember, if you want him to _live_, you'll play nice."

She swallowed a hard chunk of nerves and took his hand. A blur passed through the hole in the wall and stopped just behind Chris making her jump. Edgar squinted his eyes at her partner and slowly walked around to face him, poking him in the chest.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"Probably. It's a small world, mate," Chris said cocking his head at the speedster with a hint of a smirk.

"Claire!" Sylar appeared from the haze. He stopped short when his eyes followed her arm down to where her hand joined McKinley's.

"The mimic was here," she started to explain when her hand was squeezed again. "He shifted to look like my dad and tried to kidnap me. Chris was here to save me when you weren't." The words stung her nearly as much as him, but she had to make it hurt. She had to hurt him to save him.

"Claire… I…" he stumbled for words, pain filling his eyes and aching in her chest.

"No! Look at what you've done, Sylar! Look at this!" she screamed at him, gesturing wildly with her arms at the chaos and destruction he had wrought. "How could I ever have believed that you changed? How could I have ever thought that you were anything but a monster?" The tears were coming again as she was forced to tear her own heart out.

Sylar's gaze turned to McKinley and he shot his hand out at the man, lifting him several feet into the air with a mental choke hold. Chris kicked haphazardly as he struggled, clutching at his throat and coughing for breath.

"Stop it!" Claire screamed again, throwing her shield at him. Sylar was knocked away and Chris fell back to the ground.

"The mimic is dead," she couldn't hold back her crying anymore. "It's over, Sylar. It's over. And I'm going with Chris now. Don't follow us and don't come looking for me." McKinley rubbed his neck as she came to take his hand again. As they walked away she turned one last time to the man she had broken. "Stay safe," she whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

You didn't really think that I would let Claire get away with lying to Sylar did you? And another trip to the villain's lair? What? I swear I don't know who is really in charge of this story anymore, me or the characters?

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Tough bout of luck there, mate," Edgar said, scratching his head as they watched Claire and Chris leave through the still smoking hole he had blown in the wall of the building.

"She lied to me," Sylar whispered to himself. Another tickle made his eye twitch as he replayed what she had said. _Chris was here to save me, _shudder. _The mimic is dead, _shudder. _It's over, Sylar_, double shudder. _Stay safe…_

She was protecting him from something, but what? How terrible was it that Claire felt the need to hurt him so badly. It was all wrong. Everything about it was wrong. Sylar stalked after the pair without thinking.

"This isn't going to end well," Edgar mumbled as he jaunted after him.

"McKinley!" Sylar called after him. The couple stopped and Chris shook his head quietly without turning back. Claire darted her eyes between the two men, biting her bottom lip anxiously.

_Edgar, be ready to grab Claire and run._ The speedster nodded, tensing himself for combat, hands hovering at his sides where his swords waited.

"I was hoping to avoid this," Chris mumbled under his breath. Claire's eyes widened in fear as her partner's flooded with an inky black hue that snaked its way down his body, filling his veins with dark power. He rolled his head around, popping his neck and flexing his hands.

"Sylar don't!" she cried out to him. To late. A long arch of lightning was already leaving his hand. Chris dodged the offensive strike and blurred over to Sylar, punching him square in the chest and sending the dark man flying into the remaining wall of the department building. The resounding crack of the impact filled the air as splits in the outer brick work appeared. "No!" Claire screamed as Edgar flashed his way over to her, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her over his shoulder. The ground was moving under her to quickly to see and before she knew it the fight was out of her line of sight. Edgar leapt over rail fencing that girded highways, nearly stumbling with the awkward weight of his passenger a few times, dodged traffic and zipped in between buildings in a zigzag pattern meant to confuse anyone following them.

Sylar rose to his feet, wiping a dribble of blood from his mouth as he eyed his adversary. "That all you got?" That might have been the wrong thing to ask. The mimic sped his way around Sylar, pummeling him from seemingly every direction at once, crushing his ribs, dislocating his jaw, sweeping his legs out from under him and bringing a hard elbow down on the back of his head so that his neck broke when a sharp knee came up to greet him. As Sylar started to wave a hand at him, climbing to his feet, Chris grabbed his wrists in a preemptive strike and brought the taller man swinging over his head and slamming into the ground which splintered beneath him.

"I'm not done with you yet," he rasped as McKinley started to walk away. He flashed back to Sylar's side, invading his personal space and poking a finger in his face.

"You saved my life once. Granted, I was pretty sure that you were going to kill me afterward, but you didn't. Right now I'm _trying_ to show you that same courtesy. Believe it or not, I _don't_ want you dead but I can't have you running around screwing up my plans."

Chris slung him over his shoulder before he could fully regenerate and teleported into the prison ward of the department building. Signs reading _Level 5: Restricted Area_ passed overhead. The young agent picked an identification badge from his pocket and swiped it through the door lock gaining entrance to the secured zone. He strolled down the hallway that lead past the cells holding the most dangerous of Specials and stopped at an empty one, swiping his card again to open it. Sylar was unceremoniously dropped onto a steel slab waiting in the room. Chris over zealously went through all of the possible restraints with dazzling speed before popping out the room and back in with a small cart that controlled the substances needed to put more unpredictable inmates into medically induced comas.

"Time to get some beauty rest, buddy," he mumbled as he connected a long thin white wire to Sylar's nose. He tried to struggle. He tried to keep his mind clear of the fog and figure out how to get out of there. But in the end, he was still human and Sylar slipped into a deep dreamless sleep.

"Bullocks!" Edgar spat as he side stepped McKinley nearly to late when he popped up right in front of them. He pushed his legs as fast as they could go, running at blazing speeds away from their pursuer. "He's a bloody fast little bloke!" If he hadn't been hauling Claire for cargo, Edgar might have been able to outrun Chris, but being weighed down even slightly slowed him up enough to be caught. They were crossing a bridge nearing the city limits that lead over a small river when Edgar went sprawling forward, tumbling head over heels and scraping along the concrete roadway. Claire was ejected from his grasp with enough force that her trajectory placed her in the dark freezing waters below.

Edgar rolled to his feet after a few seconds of heavy breathing. Chris had ricocheted off of him into the railing of the other side of the bridge and was recovering from having the wind knocked out of him in the violent collision. The twin blades were pulled from Edgar's belt and in the blink of an eye they were hurdling towards McKinley's back. He barely dodged the attack and blurred back to his target. The two speedsters struggled against one another in a street fight style wrestling match to fast for normal human eyes to witness. They flailed at one another, punching, kicking and shoving through the lines of traffic while Claire shivered and coughed acidic water from her lungs on the bank below. She found the matching kukris and scrambled to get back into the action.

Claire drew up her shield and threw Edgar his swords. Blood spattered across her barrier as Edgar slashed at Chris leaving a long gash over his face. Chris paused to look at Claire incredulously before lunging at her through the sound of a bleating car horn. And then they were gone. Edgar dodged another oncoming car as he scratched his head, spinning in a half circle looking for them.

* * *

As the freshly revived unit of guards retreated from Peter to inspect the ruckus occurring at the security check point, he rummaged through the dead Noah Bennett's pockets looking for any evidence that would have belonged to the mimic. Something shiny caught his attention from the floor and he tilted the body to get a better look. A pair of figurines waited to be discovered there. It was from Claire's snow globe, her likeness aiming a gun at her father.

_Dreams lost and stolen away. It's a heavy price the innocent must pay._

Noah's cell phone started to ring and Peter scrambled for the device to answer it.

"Noah? Hello? Where the hell are you?" Matt buzzed from the other end of the line.

"It's Peter."

"Peter? You found Noah?"

"I think we might have a problem…"

* * *

Claire and Chris reappeared just outside a medium sized mobile home in the middle of a desert. The night sky expanded endlessly above with countless stars blinking lazily. They provided the only source of light outside of the home which seemed to be the only sign of civilization for as many miles as her eyes could detect in any direction.

She immediately drew her force field around her and began to attack Chris again while he was partially leaning over with a hand holding the bloody wound Edgar had given him. A charged up punch in the center of the gash sent him sprawling into the dirt. As he scrambled to return to his feet she kicked him in the rear so that he fell forward one more time. Her foot was planted in the middle of his back and he groaned in pain.

"You…" her throat was tightening with emotion, "you… you asshole!" she finally managed to scream at him. Claire removed her foot long enough to send it into his side, delivering a harsh blow that sucked the air from his lungs. Chris attempted to roll over and she threw herself on top of him, punching wildly. "Why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you? Why?"

He grabbed her balled up fists and tossed her over his side. He stumbled to his feet with a grimace of pain and shoved her over again when she tried to follow. Claire threw her shield at him, sending him toppling into the side of the house and he whirled around on her, blurring to her side and catching her throat in one hand.

"Don't," he growled, barely audible even in the silence of the desert. His eyes were still a menacing black and even though he had been severely wounded his power remained strong. Chris plopped her back onto the dirt with a dull thud and attempted to walk away again.

"What did you do with Sylar?"

"Shut up, Claire!"

"Screw you!" Claire bounded after him, aiming a high kick at his head when he turned around and grabbed her foot, throwing her down and landing on top of her. He restrained her hands above her head and locked her legs between his own, suppressing her writhing movements. His dirt stained and bloody face hovered over hers furiously, heavily breathing onto her. She spat at him and he punched her hard enough that she was seeing stars for a moment. Her force field drove a spike of light through his abdomen and he rolled off howling in pain.

"Damn it, Claire! Shit!" Blood was pouring from his stomach rapidly. Chris clutched one hand to the injury and wrapped his other hand around a fist full of her hair, dragging her inside the mobile home. She kicked and screamed against him, blowing him back with another barrier. He flicked his wrist and slammed her face first into the fold out table. She struggled helplessly against the invisible bondage as he scrounged around the tiny kitchen area for a knife. Once he found one, he loomed over her with the blade menacingly for a second before stabbing it viciously through her back.

"I hate you! I hate you and I'm going to kill you!" she screeched at him as he collected her blood and used it to heal himself. The wounds sealed themselves shut and the darkness receded from his body returning him to normal, or, at least what passed for normal Chris. He slapped a swath of duct tape over her mouth and searched through his refrigerator for a moment, returning with a loaded syringe and a beer. The second that the knife wound he had inflicted on her was healed, he injected her with the slightly milky liquid.

"Suresh's homemade power blockers. You remember these, baby?" he smirked at her as her eyes filled with horror. "Leave it to him. Of all the mouthy blonde cheerleaders in the world to choose from and he had to pick you. Just had to have the _special_ one. If it weren't for you we might not be in this screwed up mess." Chris popped the top on his beer and took a long healthy drink. He slammed the bottle down on the table that she was still fastened to and kicked at her feet so that her legs were forced to part. He bent over her from behind with his hands on either side of her, the table supporting him. He took a long deep breath from her hair while she mumbled a long stream of stifled profanities from behind the tape. His hands ran down her body until he grabbed her hips and turned her over so that she was partially laying on the table facing him.

Chris's face melted into Sylar's as his fingers trailed their way up her stomach. Claire tried to scream and continued to struggled against his power over her. "What's wrong, baby? You didn't seem to mind this so much the other night," he smirked at her with a wicked glint in his eye. "I'm a lot of things in this life, Claire Bennett. I'm a murderer. I'm a liar. I'm a thief. Hell, I'm even a kidnapper now. But fortunately for you, the one thing I am _not_ is a rapist." His hands slid over her thighs for a brief moment while his eyebrows peaked with a tumbling decision. "Bad for me. Good for you," he finished before slapping her legs closed. The mimic released his hold over her and dragged her down a narrow hall into a bedroom. He tossed her onto a creaky bed and proceeded to secure her hands and feet with the same roll of tape that had shut her mouth. "Sweet dreams," he muttered under his breath as he closed the door behind him, leaving her to cry alone in the darkness with nothing but musty sheets to comfort her.

* * *

"I thought you had Sylar's powers now? Don't you have his lie detector thingy?" Matt tapped at his forehead in exasperation as they peered down at Noah's body lying on a cold medical slab in the department's hospital ward.

"It's not exactly an infallible ability," Peter glowered at him. "This guy has done his homework. Half truths don't exactly set it off."

"Can't say that I'm real sad to see this bloke going six feet under," a voice murmured from the door.

"Edgar? What are you doing here?" Peter asked with surprise as he looked up from his work on Noah. The speedster stumbled into the ward decorated in multiple hues ranging from a dark purple to a bright yellow. Cuts and scrapes littered his exposed skin and his shirt was torn just above the shoulder.

"Hell if I know. Sylar popped in for a friendly," he made a low whistle as he dragged his finger lightly over the cut in his forehead, "visit earlier. Dragged me along for the ride when his girl got herself into a spot of trouble."

"He was going to kill you for your ability?" Mohinder piped up from the corner where he had been shuffling his feet.

"Well, I wasn't going to make it easy for him, but that seemed to be the goal of his little trip." Edgar scooted over to the table and poked a shaky finger at Noah's body.

"So he is evil again?" Matt slapped his forehead.

"Where is he now?" Suresh asked while cautiously eyeing the door as though he expected the man to stroll through it any second.

"Beats me. Last I saw him, he was getting his ass handed to him by other speedster."

"He was fighting Chris? And losing?" Peter asked with his eyebrows dangerously close to disappearing into his hair line.

"You should take a gander at the stain he left outside if you don't believe it." Peter smacked Edgar's hand away as he moved to poke the body again.

"That can't be good," Matt sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"But where is he now?" Mohinder prodded again.

"Dunno, mate. He told me to grab the girl and run."

"So, where's Claire?" Peter was losing his patience.

"Dunno about that either. I was working on getting' the duck out of fodge when the lil' bastard poofed himself right in front of me. We had a bit of a brawl, got him a good one I think, and then he grabbed the girl and poofed out of there again."

"Damn it!" Peter slammed two fists into Noah's slab, accidentally crunching the metal a little bit. The sharp noise served as a reminder of his task at hand. He held his palm over the body and used his newly found telekinesis to extract the bullet from Noah's chest. He then slashed a thin line over the hand and dribbled some of his blood into the open wound. After a few moments Noah sat bolt upright on the slab with a deep gasp.

"Claire?" he called out to his daughter before realizing where he was. "Where's Claire?" he demanded after a few sparing glances around the ward and to the faces waiting for him. Everyone shrugged their shoulders in answer to his question. "It was Chris. He's the shape shifter. Been hiding under our noses this whole time," he started to explain as he polished the lenses of his glasses so that he could see a little better.

"Yes. That has come to our attention recently," Mohinder muttered as he gnawed on his thumb nail in thought.

"I'm never going to get used to this coming back from the dead thing," Noah mumbled, laying a hand over his nauseated stomach. "Edgar? What are you doing here? And where's Sylar?"

* * *

Claire was fluttering towards consciousness as a ray of sunlight hit her face, streaming over her closed eyelids. She could feel body heat that wasn't her own and a strange presence. There was someone near her. A face hovered over her as the fog of sleep slowly cleared from her vision.

"Meredith?"

No. It couldn't be her. The woman floating dreamily over her was familiar somehow but not anyone she recognized. Long gently curling stresses of untidy midnight colored hair framed a pale face, punctuated by unsettlingly bright, piercing blue eyes, wild, like a full moon on a winter night.

She sat bolt upright and scurried away from the girl until her back hit a wall and she nearly tumbled over the corner of the bed she had been put to sleep in. The alien girl cocked her head to the side curiously as Claire drew her shield around herself for protection. A long pale finger extended out to her, penetrating the shield as if it weren't really there and softly poked her in the cheek.

"Boop."

"Who are you?" Claire demanded noticing that her duct tape bonds had been removed.

"You called me Miranda when you first meet me." Her voice was oddly musical, fluctuating randomly between high and low pitches. Claire couldn't explain why she felt compelled to reach out to her, or why she lacked the blatant fear that everyone else felt in this person's presence.

"Damn it, Miranda. Get out of my room. You know you're not supposed to be here." Chris's voice broke the awkward meeting. Miranda jumped to her feet from her kneeling position by the bed and twirled herself about in a dance to music that wasn't playing to anyone but her. Claire studied the girl's appearance briefly, noting that she wasn't necessarily a girl but a young woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties. She was fairly tall for a female as well, with long lanky limbs and a lean figure. She wore a simple off white dress that flowed to her knees, exposing her lack of footwear and dirt stained feet. Her black hair spun about her face as she pranced around the room and began to walk up a wall, stopping in the middle of her ascent to stare vacantly at something invisible.

"Sorry about her. Miranda can be… a handful sometimes." McKinley's eyes darted after her, fascinated, afraid and cautious, never seeming to trust her movements. He quickly closed the dark curtains that allowed the sunlight in and plopped himself down into a chair facing the bed. He pulled a gun out from under the chair and removed the clip, checking to see that it was unloaded. The gun floated out of his hands and disintegrated into the air, separating out into its individual pieces.

"Miranda! Put it back!" he yelled at her but his tone was timid. Miranda was standing upside down from the ceiling with her long hair dangling below her. She had an impish smile on her face as she clapped her hands together and the weapon reassembled itself and returned to its owner.

"Here," he said with an exasperated sigh, digging a slightly torn coloring book out from the shelf next to his chair. He handed her the coloring book and a handful of broken crayons. She perched herself on a pile of laundry in the corner and waved a hand over the book, flipping the pages until she came to a picture she liked and proceeded to scribble over it. Chris seemed to ignore Claire for the moment, returning his attention to his gun.

"Um," Claire broke the silence after a few minutes to point in Miranda's direction. McKinley snapped his attention toward her to see the young woman staring intently at a blue crayon while the green one poked out of her mouth.

"You're not supposed to eat those. They're not food," he calmly explained to her, crossing the distance between them to take her hands. She spit the crayon out and raked her tongue over her teeth, twitching her nose a few times. "Are you hungry?"

"I was in three minutes and forty six seconds."

His head dropped in frustration but a slight smile spread over his lips. "Come on," he said dragging her to a standing position and motioning to Claire with a nod of his head. They walked down the short narrow hall from the bedroom to the half kitchen set up with the fold out dining table.

Claire apprehensively slid into the booth, couch, furniture with Miranda, grimacing at the memory from the night before and watched as Chris prepared a sandwich and a glass of juice for the girl. He patted her on the head gently before turning back to Claire and asking if she wanted something to eat as well. He was about to protest when she shook her head no, but decided otherwise and signaled for her to follow him back to his room after telling Miranda to be careful to not set anything on fire.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked when he shut the door behind them.

"There's a lot of things I would _like_ to do with you," he said smirking as his finger ran down the side of her face. "But right now… " he slipped out another syringe filled with the power blocking solution and stabbed the needle into her arm, gripping her tight when she started to struggle and pressed in the plunger.

"Where did you find her?" Claire jested in the direction of the kitchen area.

"I didn't. She found me," he said jamming his hands into his pockets and looking at the door as though he could see through it to the girl sitting at his table. "She… Hell, I don't even know where she came from. She just showed up one night and never really went away. Her parents were killed when she was just a kid and she's still wondering around trying to find them. Trying to fix something."

"That's so… sad."

"Yeah. I guess _her _parents must have actually been worth knowing." An expression of deep regret crossed over his features for a moment but quickly disappeared as he collected himself.

"She seems a little… different," she tried to put it gently.

"A bunch of government cronies got to her after they killed her parents. She won't tell me exactly what they did to her, but it was some pretty twisted stuff. They experimented on her, tortured her, forced her to use her abilities on people so they could watch. Kinda made her a little nutty I guess."

"And now you're taking care of her?" Chris looked a little offended at her mocking tone.

"Somebody has to."

"Because we're family!" Miranda's sing song voice pierced the air as she popped into the room and started twirling about again with a small smear of grape jelly clinging to the corner of her mouth.

He took a look at his watch, shaking his head when he noted how the hands had randomly spun around and frozen. "Looks like it's time for me to go to work. Now, Miranda," he said, calmly taking her hands in his, "remember the butterflies?"

"Butterflies!"

"That's right. We don't step on butterflies, do we?"

"Nope!"

"Okay. I need you to stay out of trouble while I'm gone. Can you do that for me?"

The girl quietly nodded her head as just a hint of a smirk peaked over the corner of her mouth. He ruffled her mussed hair and wrapped her in his arms for a hug before turning to leave.

"What? You're just going to leave me here? How do you know I won't try to escape?" Claire called after him.

"You can try. Won't get very far," he called back, slamming the door of the home behind him.

* * *

A short stocky man in a blue janitor's uniform pushed his cart of cleaning supplies down the hall of the level five prison ward. One of the wheels of his cart squeaked noisily as he came to a stop in front of a cell he had been assigned to clean. It was supposed to have been empty but now an uncharted occupant was present, heavily sedated on one of the slabs that they reserved for the worst of the worst.

"Must have done something pretty bad to get himself down here before the paperwork was filed," the janitor muttered to himself grumpily before he continued down the row.


	18. Chapter 18

Sort of a development chapter here. Getting close to the end now!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

"You've failed me," the staunch voice announced before the mimic could even take his customary seat in front of the desk. He was standing at his solitary window with his hands tightly clasped behind his back, watching the world outside flow by him as it had for eons beyond his own recollection.

"Mr. Kline, there were circumstances-"

"Don't make excuses for your own incompetence. Claire Bennett has escaped. Gabriel Gray is seemingly missing in action." Kline whirled around on him, slamming his palms down on the desk with a fury in eyes that made the younger man audibly gulp. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this? For another immortal to come along?" He remembered the last time one had sprung up. Adam Monroe he had been called, a long distant descendant and an utter disappointment. The man had only made it some four hundred years before he crumbled under the test of time.

Kline had carefully compared himself to Adam. He believed he had found the answer as to why the other man had gone so hopelessly insane. Adam hadn't had a single soul to belong to, or to care for. The man had made the worst mistake he could with his unnaturally long life and isolated himself from others. Of course he had taken wives, clinging to the women like life rafts only to watch them slip away in the fashion of sand through the hour glass, but he had never built a family for himself the way Kline had.

There was nothing like witnessing time float along continuously until the world had changed to where he could no longer understand it to make him realize that nothing was permanent. Even the immortal could die. It was through family and the never ending flow of a bloodline that one would reach a truly lasting life. So long as his genes, a few sparse traits or talents and perhaps even a memory persisted, he survived.

_Rome, 64 A.D._

"_Lucius!" she screamed for him through the smoke of the fire. He grimaced as falling cinders sizzled against his skin even though the burns healed as quickly as they were made. He coughed, choking on the hot air as he searched for her in the blazing remains of their once proud home._

"_Aurelia!" he called back to her, frantic to hear her voice again. His wife, the great love and shining light of his bleak life had been trapped beneath a fallen beam. He summoned every ounce of might within him, struggling to remove the smoldering obstruction so that she could escape but it was futile. _

"_Lucius, you must go. You must save the children," she had pleaded with him. He cried out as another sheet of flame fell across his back but he stayed to kneel beside her, taking her hand._

"_I can't leave you!" _

"_You'll come back for me. I know you will. But right now you have to get the children to safety before the city falls."_

_The tears came freely from him as he took his last long glance at his darling. Even though her soft golden curls had frizzled and her face was growing pale with impending death, she was hauntingly beautiful to him. Her emerald eyes implored him again to save their family before herself. Reluctantly he let go of her hand knowing that he would come back for her, but it would not be to save her from this destruction. Aurelia had given her life freely so that the others could go on. Her name had meant 'golden' and it was the golden purity in her soul that guided the family through the ruined capitol that night._

_Lucius gathered his children around himself once they had reached the hill that overlooked the city. The fires crept wildly over what had been their lives until that point, consuming it all and leaving no friendly scrap behind for recovery. He turned to look with worry in his eyes as his eldest daughter sharply inhaled her breath. It was to fast to see what had really happened, but a young woman with tussled black locks and curiously piercing blue eyes had appeared. He could have sworn that he had seen a faint glimmer of light enter his daughter's body under the stranger's hand at that moment. And then, with an eerie giggle the oddity vanished leaving him with his only modest peek at a goddess. _

"Do you have any mental faculty at all that could possibly understand how long I've watched and waited for _them_ specifically?" his words came more as low snarls than true communication.

"I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"You're sorry? Oh, well, that must make it all better then, doesn't it?" Kline crossed the distance between them with more speed than should have been possible. Before the mimic could blink he had taken a hand, laid it on his desk and driven the pointed end of his letter pen through the sensitive flesh. The younger man squirmed and cried out in pain.

"I've been watching your family for a long time. Nearly as closely as my own, even though I've never exactly been able to force myself into liking any of them. Your father was a spectacularly large nuisance but I allowed him to live just as I am going to let you so that my plans may one day come to fruition. Now I suggest you get out of my sight and complete your mission before I'm tempted to change my mind."

* * *

Claire stepped outside of the trailer and squinted her eyes under the blinding mid day sun, scanning the distant horizon for anything familiar, anything that said there might be people. He was right, she thought with a cold shiver even though heat radiated around her from the white hot orb of light overhead. They were in the middle of nowhere, possibly a hundred miles from any other form of civilization. Even if she had her ability to work with, she wouldn't get far traversing the burning sands without food, water or any hope of shelter to rest within.

She attempted to focus on Sylar for a moment in hopes of using their strange mental connection to reach out to him. Claire imagined the way his eyes burned into hers, making her heart jump. She could almost feel the warmth of his fingers against her skin as he would pull her chin up to touch their lips. There was that little tug in his direction again, like an invisible rope binding them. She could only hope that he would get the message and come to get her away from this place. Until then she desperately needed something to do that would take her mind off of the current situation.

When Claire returned to the trailer her eyes carefully surveyed the shambled home. Dishes and articles of clothing were strewn about and dust haunted every surface that wasn't covered in empty beer bottles. _Definitely a bachelor pad_.

Miranda watched quizzically from her seat on the ceiling while she deeply sighed and began to clean up their mess. Claire was only mildly startled when the other woman appeared directly behind her with a faint popping sound and a dish towel in hand. They smiled at one another quietly and enjoyed a peaceful silence as they worked around the tiny kitchen area together. Once the dishes were finished Miranda's eyes stared at her blankly as though she were awaiting instruction for the next task. Claire timidly smiled at the girl while she removed a stash of beer bottles from the top of the television, allowing the clinking of glass to fill the stale air from the trash can. After a few vacant blinks the girl started to get the idea as though she were calling on some distant memory.

Claire gasped as the familiar feel of telekinetic winds swept across her skin. Miranda had closed her eyes, mentally willing any stray pieces of garbage into the trash can, tying the bag off and throwing open a window for it to float through. Blinds and curtains were tossed aside so that warm sunlight could fill the home. Clothing found its way to the washing unit, all particles of dust hovered momentarily before being flung through the door. They both levitated nearly to the ceiling as a vacuum cleaner sprung to life and swept over the carpet of its own volition. In the space of three minutes the house had become bright and spotless.

Another faint popping sound later and the two women were outside. Miranda kicked a dirt stained foot at the sand and knelt to the ground so that she could place her palms over it. Lush green grasses flowed over the desert floor like a gushing river while colorful pockets of sweet smelling flowers sprung up to decorate the pitiful trailer surroundings.

"Oh my God. Miranda, it's amazing," Claire sighed with awe while her senses adored the new garden. The girl only ticked her head to the side and smirked in response. It was actually enjoyable to be there as Claire kicked back in one of the lawn chairs that had appeared and soaked in the sun's rays while her mysterious companion folded her long lanky legs into the other chair and went to work on her prized coloring book. Before long the music of the gently humming air conditioner and the rhythmic scribbling over paper lulled her into a light sleep.

* * *

Angela Petrelli had fallen into a fitful afternoon nap as she relaxed in her overstuffed recliner. Fuzzy images filled her tumbling subconscious.

_Mom and Dad are dancing again. She giggles when he leans in for a kiss. They always hold hands when they think no one is looking, but we all know._

_The uncles are arguing over which part of the zoo they want to take me to see first. One wants to take pictures of me in the petting zoo, the other wants to explain that the snakes in the reptile exhibit aren't slimy the way they look. I already know, but he likes to teach me things._

_Five birthday candles glow over my cake. The whole family is here, singing to me, out of tune. There's so much love in this house. So much warmth and happiness. Why does it have to go away?_

_The moon is moving over the sun, blotting out the light. They don't see it in here but I can feel it coming. They're going to die today. _

_Dad stops singing and looks at the door. Men in black uniforms flashing government badges kick it in, invading the house. He screams at my mother to take me and run. She doesn't want to but he kisses us both and tells us that he'll find us again. A gun fires. My uncle falls to the floor, bleeding. Dad screams at us to run again._

_Mom is pulling my hand because I can't move fast enough. I look behind me and see the fire starting. She starts to cry. We both know the ones that stayed behind are gone now. Agents appear in front of us. She tries to fight back. One shoots at my mother. She falls to the ground, dead. _

_I feel something happening to me. Hate. I'm going to destroy them all. _

Angela sat straight up in her chair with a gasp, holding her hand over her heart trying to calm the startled beating. She pulled out her cell phone to make an urgent call.

"Mr. Kline, please… Yes sir. She's coming."

The message is a simple one, short and straight to the point. That's the way he likes things. It's something that never changes so matter how long he lives, and he'll always know what it means.

* * *

"Peter?"

Several voices were attempting to reach him as his fingers dug into the steel of the table Noah had rested on, sinking into it, tearing at the metal. He readily recognized the feeling bubbling up through his gut. It was a blackness he had forgotten about. The hunger.

"Run," he spat under his breath, using every ounce of his energy to control himself. Matt and Mohinder's abilities he already had, but Edgar's… Peter clenched his eyes tight, grinding his teeth while the muscles in his face and neck contorted painfully. The speedster hovering in the corner began to grow aware of the situation. Only the night before had he seen that same expression. The urge to suppress homicidal tendencies.

"Oh, bullocks."

Edgar started for the door, blurring to fast for the others to see, but not fast enough to escape. Peter flicked his wrist in the speedster's direction, tacking him to the wall.

"Peter, no!" Matt screamed at him. He hesitated for a second while his eye twitched and his fingers trembled in anticipation of the coming relief.

_Let Edgar go. You don't want to do this, Peter. You're a better man than this._

He released his concentration on the speedster long enough to turn on Parkman. His head tilted to the side gazing intently into the other man's eyes.

_You can't control me, Matt. No one can. I'm unstoppable now._

Peter turned to Noah, raising his hand like a puppeteer and forcing the man to draw his weapon on Matt. Mohinder lunged at Bennett and jerked the gun away before he had a chance to pull the trigger. He bent the firearm into an awkward pretzel shape and leapt at Peter who paused him in mid air.

* * *

"Hello?" he called out into the darkness. Sylar was trapped all alone in some kind of vacuum that not even light or air could escape. Memories of the time he had spent behind the wall of the nightmare Matt Parkman had inflicted on him came rushing back. "Claire? Peter? Anybody?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Silence.

"Sylar?" a faint feminine voice echoed back to him through the haze of nothingness. Someone was approaching, fighting the void to get to him. A young girl with soft brown hair and bright green eyes appeared on his peripheral.

"Christine?"

"In the… Okay so maybe not the flesh, but you get my jest."

"Where am I?"

"Stuck."

He felt like groaning but was far to happy to see another person there to let it slip out.

"I've seen this before. Happens a lot to people in comas. You're trapped somewhere between dreaming and wanting to wake up."

"How do I get out?" He could see a thin set of shoulders shrugging.

"Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"It's kind of like a weird tickle. Someone's paging you."

_Claire._

"How do I get out?" he demanded again.

"You'll just have to find a way to fight it somehow." Sylar wanted to scream but he forced himself to hold it together. Falling apart now would not be helpful for anyone. He focused on the empty space around himself and began to beat relentlessly against the walls holding him down.

* * *

Something was wrong. Claire roused herself from her nap, blinded temporarily by the setting desert sun. Miranda was absent from her seat but the old tattered coloring book remained. She pulled it to her, curious what the strange girl would have drawn between its pages. The first page held a surprisingly artistic rendering of a group of people with happy smiling faces. It was easy to recognize the picture as a family. A sweet and innocent looking little girl sat at a table before a big pink birthday cake with five candles. A tall man with dark hair and a woman with long curly blonde hair flanked her. On the peripheral were two more men, one with dark hair, the other with a curiously reddish brown coloring. Another shorter man stood in the back, holding a long sword in his outstretched hands.

The next page showed the little girl being dragged away by a group of people in black armored uniforms while the bodies of the people from the previous page were laying on the ground. Another page showed her sitting in a chair, strapped down, with wires flaring out from her body while a man in a white lab coat injected her with some kind of black liquid. The pages of the coloring book slowly grew more sinister, depicting the little girl being abused and hurting others, one page showed her floating above a body of water while a whirlpool swallowed a fleet of navy vessels. The last picture in the book was of a more aged girl walking with a blonde man through a forest of fire. After that the pages were relegated to complex series of numbers and equations that were beyond Claire's understanding until the very back cover. On the last space available in the book were the words: _If I can destroy them, I can save them._

Claire decided to go back into the mobile home to check on Miranda. When she entered the girl was levitating a few feet off of the floor with her legs crossed in a sitting position. The television had been separated out into its individual parts, all of which hovered like her and spun themselves around the screen that alone stayed in a stationary place.

A breaking news program was playing a live video feed of a man walking through downtown New York with fire in his hands. Claire watched helplessly as Sylar smirked for the cameras, throwing fireballs at the spectators and police crews that had gathered around. Miranda was enthralled with the video feed to a point that she hadn't seemed to notice Claire's presence at all until her head suddenly snapped in her direction. The girl's eyes were somewhat distraught looking. Even though she was apparently looking at Claire, her eyes were focused on something beyond her. And then the television reassembled itself as the girl vanished from thin air.

She hurried to turn the program back on to catch the update. Unfortunately the electricity needed to run the appliance had only been supplied by the other woman.

* * *

Peter tilted his head to the side, examining the forms of Noah and Mohinder writhing against the ceiling. Matt had collapsed onto the floor with blood pouring from his nose and Edgar continued to futily struggled against the bonds that had chained him to the wall. Two fingers pointed themselves at his head and he flinched as the cut Sylar had started began to draw itself across his forehead again.

_You don't want to do that, Peter._

"Yes. I really do," he muttered to the disembodied voice that entered his head.

_There's a better way. You already know how._

"I can't stop it. It's to strong."

_Would you do this to Emma?_

"No, of course not!"

_Then you can fight it. You can control it._

"But I _have_ to… I _need_ to understand."

_Let me show you the way._

A high pitched piercing sound filled the air. Peter was forced to cover his ears and shrink away in submission. The others fell from their positions and lightly floated to the floor where they followed his example, attempting to protect their hearing and crying out in pain.

"Miranda?" Peter asked with a touch of awe in his voice as she entered the room. Edgar took one look at the woman and scuttled into the corner farthest away from her. Mohinder and Noah slowly backed away with fear in their eyes. She giggled in response and took a long stride in his direction. Miranda gently placed her hand on Peter's shoulder, transferring a small amount of power into him and he sighed with complete relief as the hunger was sated with knowledge of the speedster's power.

"Wait. Please. Tell me where you're going." Peter was almost crawling after her as she backed away.

_Find Sylar. Save the cheerleader…_

"Save the world," he finished her simple command. She evaporated into thin air.

"See? What did I tell you! She just poofs around as she bloody well pleases," Edgar exclaimed from his corner wildly pointing a finger at where she had been a second before.

"What the hell was that?" Noah asked rubbing his neck and shooting a poisonous glare at Peter.

"Matt, call Molly and ask her to locate Sylar."

"Screw you, Peter."

"How long will it be before you lose control again? Who will be next, Peter? Me? Claire? Emma?" Mohinder was livid over his outburst.

Petrelli didn't have a chance to explain himself or apologize before Parkman retaliated.

_You remember that nightmare that you and Sylar were so afraid of? Welcome back to it, Peter._

His eyes flickered for a moment before rolling back into his head. He fell to the floor under the power of Matt's suggestion.

"It was bad enough with _one_ of _them_ running around. Now Peter… I'd say level five should be sufficient to hold him until we can figure out how to fix this." The others quietly nodded in agreement with Noah's decision.

"I just can't believe that he trusted Sylar to do that to him. Here he was thinking that he was being 'fixed' and all that really happened was that psychopath infecting him," Matt glared at Peter's unconscious body as they picked him up and carted him towards the prison ward.

* * *

"I was afraid this was going to happen," Chris sighed as he watched Sylar's eyelids flutter, his consciousness struggling against the chemicals that were keeping him asleep. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. I really didn't want it to come to this, but you're to strong for your own good. I just wish you could understand."

He hovered over the man on the table for a moment, studying his face. "You used to really be somebody, man. You were one of the biggest bad asses around. Now look at you. What did they do you to you?" There was a genuine amount of sadness in his eyes as he lifted Sylar's head slightly from the table. With a deep breath he pulled a shining dagger from under his coat, twirled it in his fingers for a moment and drove the blade deep into the back of the dark man's head at the base of his skull until only the hilt remained visible.

"Maybe when this is over I can come back for you. It can be like old times again." Chris paused and listened, detecting the approach of someone into his section of the facility. He quickly decided that staying to greet the new inmate wouldn't be appropriate under his current circumstances and jumped out.

"Cell number nine should be empty," Noah grunted under Peter's weight. The group only momentarily hesitated seeing another occupant in their destination and moved on to the next. They deposited Peter's limp body onto the bed inside the cell and took the precaution of restraining him to it even though he would not be waking up anytime soon.

"What do you know? I found our buddy Sylar," Edgar said with a faint grin, pointing at the cell they had passed.

* * *

Claire had been deeply disturbed by Miranda's coloring book but her curious nature compelled her into the girl's room for further investigation. The walls were painted a light pink color and decorative butterflies hung from the ceiling. Dozens of strands of yarn were taped around the room in various colors with pictures, news clippings, and small mementoes clinging to them. There was a white strand that seemed to follow Claire's life, a dark blue one for Sylar, a black one for Miranda, a red one for someone labeled Lucius, and miscellaneous others signifying Peter, Chris, and agents within the D.S.R.E.C. Several of the strings were wound together featuring groups of villains that they had taken down under orders from the department. The yarn for Lucius extended far beyond the others and at the end was one of the butterflies that belonged to the ceiling.

"You can't be here. You can't see this," the normally sing song voice had a tinge of menace to it.

"Miranda, what is this?" Claire asked, her fingers tracing the white strand as she turned to face the girl behind her.

"You can't know. I already messed everything up. I already stepped on the butterflies to many times!" Her eyes were turning dark, frantic and wild. Claire felt a power surge growing within the girl as the light of the room slowly dimmed. The walls were bowing inward and the floor creaked angrily under the strain.

"Miranda!" Chris screamed as he popped into the room. "Calm down! You have to stop this!"

"They'll never stop. _He'll_ never stop."

"No! Remember what I told you, Miranda? It doesn't have to be like this. We'll find a way to stop it. Just let me help you." Energy started to ripple around her, shuddering her slim figure and distorting the time and space of the room. "Just breathe." Chris held his hands out to her and she took them, trembling as a black tear fell down her cheek. Claire sighed in relief as the energies dissipated.

* * *

After the storm had calmed, Chris stepped out of the trailer and plopped himself into the lawn chair Claire had used earlier. He set his beer down on the ground and kicked his legs up onto an invisible stool in front of him, slouching and allowing his hands to lazily drift over the sides of the chair so that his fingers could roam over the fresh grass. Claire found herself following behind him and quietly perched in the chair next to his. He rolled his head over to look at her, his eyes searching hers for the answer to some unspoken question.

"I didn't actually do it," he started.

"Do what?"

"Have sex with you that night." His face turned away from her to look up at the glinting stars overhead. "I went in there fully expecting it and ready to do it. I even wanted to."

She narrowed her eyes at him skeptically.

"I remember it, Chris. I remember… _him_."

"You looked at me funny when I started kissing you, like you were expecting something to happen. I knew I couldn't keep up the act without you realizing that it wasn't really him. I," he let out a long low sigh, still refusing to look at her again as though this confession were almost painful for him, "used one of my abilities that I stole from my… _father_." There was more than a little venom spilled over the word referencing his patriarch. "I sedated you and I put you in your bed. God, I wanted to, Claire. I _really _did. But you just looked so sweet and peaceful laying there. I just couldn't make myself go through with it, even when you started mumbling his name and tried to reach for me. I knew that if I did it I wouldn't just be as bad as my old man. I would be him all over again and that is something that I just can't deal with." He finally turned back to face her and their eyes locked again in a strangely familiar way. "So I used the mentalist's power to create an illusion. I never even touched you. Like I said. I'm a lot of things. But I'm not a rapist." Chris grabbed his beer and took a long deep swig, sighing again and replacing it on the ground beside him.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because. There's some part of me that hates this _thing_ I've become. This monster that feels like it's crawling under my skin. I remember what it was like to be a normal kid and I never wanted to hurt anyone. And then one day I met this girl named Mary. She was… beautiful and funny and… She was nice to me when a lot of the other girls I went to school with were just bitches." He smiled fondly on the memory before it took a darker turn and another wave of pain filled his eyes. "We went out a few times. I really cared about her. But one day she didn't show up to school and I got worried about her so I went to her house. She was freaked because this _thing_ was happening to her and she couldn't control it. She had started to manifest an ability. She showed it to me and… I just snapped. I didn't even know why I did it. I hit her… _hard_. And she fell and I just kept hitting her and there was blood everywhere. I _had_ to know how she did it. I _had_ to know what it was and I _wanted_ it. I _needed _it more than anything I had ever needed anything before."

"The hunger," she absent mindedly recalled what Sylar and Peter had referred to that effect as. Claire had never fully grasped what it had meant until then. There were a lot of powers with side effects, but out of all of them, the hunger that came with their intuitive aptitude seemed to be the worst.

"Before I could make myself stop I had cut her head open and went poking through her brain. And when I got her power… It was like being stoned off the best drug ever. I was high on the power." She could recognize that look in his eyes as he recalled the sensation. She had seen it on Sylar. It was some convoluted mixture of pride, arrogance and joyous intoxication like an addiction that had just been fed. His fingers lazily traced over his arm where his skin started to fluctuate. The space on his forearm grew paler and circular scars appeared. Claire opened her mouth to inquire about the old injuries when his eyes locked with hers again, pointed, deadly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" she squeaked, already knowing the answer.

"Because of what I have to do to you now."

Claire didn't even pause to breathe. She jumped from the chair she had been sitting in and dashed through the desert sands as quickly as her legs would allow. Chris took another long drink of his beer while he watched her trip and stumble up a small dune heading away from the home. A head start was the best he could do for her.

* * *

"Someone didn't want him to get away," Noah remarked curtly, studying the carefully laced restraints, chemical drip and finally the blade lodged firmly into the back of Sylar's head.

"I can't believe he's been here this entire time," Mohinder said while he scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"Well, whoever put him here wasn't as smart as they think they are," Edgar pointed out as he cautiously approached the body. "That ain't the kill spot no more on this bloke."

"Good luck finding it though. There's a hundred places he could have moved it to."

"Or just one that's to obvious for anybody to think of," Edgar bent his face over Sylar's and immediately jumped back when his eyelids fluttered again.

"You know where it is?"

The two men met eyes for a moment and then both turned to look at the tattoo of Claire on his arm.

"Seriously? No way. Can't be that easy… can it?" Matt's eyes widened as he thought about.

"Only one way to tell."

Edgar flipped out one of his swords, flinching as Sylar's body twitched, and gently poked at the arm, eyeing the dark man for a response.

_Claire._

Matt nearly jumped out his skin with the thought that wasn't his own. "He's fighting the sleep. He keeps thinking about Claire… He can hear her… screaming?"

"Maybe we should let him out?" Edgar tossed the question at Noah.

"No. We can't risk losing him again. We'll call Molly and find Claire ourselves. Hurry up and get it over with," the older man said jesting to Edgar to test the theoretical kill spot.

_Claire._

And then Sylar opened his eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

So, Sylar came to me and told me that he was tired of trying to guess what the mimic was really up to. As we all know, Sylar tends to get his way so here it is. The story is coming to an end and the mimic's true intentions are revealed (as well as his real identity!). Remember to feed the review monster!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Claire…" he called to her, taunting, his voice echoing against the empty sands in the night. "Claire…" She kept running over the dunes, stumbling through the loose dirt. Her lungs were burning with the effort but adrenaline pushed her harder.

"I meant what I said, Claire. When I told you how much I liked you. I wanted to take the easy way out. I wanted to be a hero to you. I thought that maybe if you could fall for me instead we could have avoided all this. But no… You're almost as stubborn as my brother. Once you get your eyes on a prize you just can't help yourself. That's one more way we're all alike, Claire."

She toppled over, twisting her ankle. Frantic tears were spilling over her cheeks. If only she had her powers she could stop him, or at least be able to heal through an encounter or her escape. Claire dragged herself over the top of another hill and tumbled down the other side landing face first in the fine dust.

"McKinley should have been perfect for you. He was good looking wasn't he, Claire? He was a smart and funny guy. He was charming and brave. _Not_ a psychopath. Your daddy sure liked him. Maybe I should have picked up flying. It's almost a joke with you, liking the flyboys."

Sand filled her mouth and spilled down her throat making her choke and stinging her eyes. He was getting closer. She was trying to run as fast as she could to get away and he was just trudging along after her. This was a game to him. He was stalking his prey, not even fearful that she could call for help or fend him off. Maniacal laughter sounded behind her, so close she could feel the vibrations.

"Look at what I found," he sang with glee. Claire wanted to scream but the sand in her throat stifled the sound, rubbing the flesh raw from the inside. Chris smirked at her as she dragged herself backwards and then flipped to army crawl away from him. A hand tightened around the injured ankle and pulled her back. "This can go so much easier if you don't fight me, Claire. I'll make it quick I promise."

The other foot aimed a kick at his face and busted his nose, sending him sprawling backward, clutching at the bleeding orifice and cursing her name. She hauled herself to her feet and limped as quickly as she could. His hunt for her was kicking up her metabolic rate and burning away the ability suppressant he had been keeping her on. Flickers of light started to warm her hands. If she could last a little longer she would have her power back and be able to fight him. But he saw the development to easily in the darkness.

A needle flew into her back like a dart and dosed her again with the toxin. She fell forward, sobbing and screeching as best she could.

"Damn, Claire. I think you broke my nose. You've got some fire in you girl. That was a part of what drew him to you. You're a fighter. Never making it easy. But it just makes the catch so much sweeter." Chris closed in on her again, mentally flipping her over so she had to face him. She threw up her arms, swinging wildly as he straddled her. He caught her hands and forced them down to the ground above her head so that she couldn't move any further.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she cried out.

"Because. If you die then the line ends. _He_ won't have anything left and the catalyst will be gone. Your death can save the world, Claire. Isn't that what you hero types are all about?" A touch of sadness briefly filtered through the menace in his eyes. Chris let go of her hands but kept them bound telekinetically. His fingers lightly traced over her lips. "If it makes you feel any better I'm going to die too after this. Once you're out of the picture Kline won't have any use for me anymore. He'll finish off _our _line just for spite."

"He's going to come for me," she sobbed to herself for comfort. "He's going to stop you and save me."

"Who? Sylar?" He chuckled in her face. "He might if I hadn't killed him." Claire felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces with the dark revelation.

"But he can't die… He took my ability… We can't die…" she croaked between waves of tears.

"Even the immortal can die, Claire. That's the balance in life. There's always a beginning and an end. And every life comes with a death. No one is immune to the inevitable. That's why you have that handy dandy little kill spot in the back of your head."

He couldn't understand why she started laughing.

"What did you do, stab in the head?"

"Of course. I had to stop him, Claire. I couldn't let him save you." She went into hysterics until he slapped her to gain her attentions again. "What the hell is so funny about this?"

"That kill spot you think is so wonderful," she raised her face so that they were nearly nose to nose. "He moved it." Chris's eyes opened wide. He started looking around him in every direction like he expected Sylar to descend on him any second.

"I guess that means I should get this over with." He took hold of her face and leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips, lingering for a moment and then leaning back again with his eyes closed, savoring the memory. Claire shrieked out a blood curdling scream as his fingers moved a bloody line over her forehead.

* * *

_Claire._

Sylar blinked against the blinding light of the florescent overhead and grimaced at the scraping of the blade in his head on the slab he was strapped to.

"Edgar," Noah called as he trained his gun on the dark man.

"Claire," Sylar mumbled again, shaking the fog from his thoughts.

"We can't let him escape. He'll kill us all. Do it, Edgar." The speedster hesitated, his sword still poised against the tattoo, but he shook his head.

"If his girl's calling him hard enough to shake all _this_ off we need to let the bloke go."

The table began to shake as the straps restraining Sylar shifted to release him. Edgar wagged a finger at Matt and Mohinder as they started towards Sylar. Noah fired a shot but a sweeping blur and a flash of steel sparking against the brass got in the way. The bullet split into two halves, one ricocheting off the wall, the other barely grazing Sylar's cheek. With a low throaty growl Sylar split the straps into pieces sitting up. He jerked the wire chemical drip out of his nose and yanked the dagger from his skull.

"I know what it's like to lose the girl you love, mate. Go get yours before it's to late." Sylar nodded in appreciation at the speedster and leered at Noah for a moment before blurring out of the room, leaving a gust of air to fly in their faces in the wake of his escape.

Edgar sped his way out of the room and slammed on the bottom outside to close the door behind him, trapping the other three in the cell. He chuckled to himself, giddy at the frustrated expressions on their faces. The sound of guns clicking came from behind him and he slowly turned around to face a small unit of guards aiming their weapons at him.

"Bloody hell. Don't you people ever ask questions _before_ you try to shoot someone?"

* * *

Peter stood before a wall that separated him from freedom in Parkman's nightmare. Instead of brick this time though, it was made of the same tempered glass that formed the viewing windows of level five prison cells. He scowled at the wall with his hands on his hips and huffed at the scenario.

"This is ridiculous. If Sylar doesn't kill Matt, I might." He picked up the trusty sledgehammer that kept him company for most of the duration of his last stay and started swinging.

"You're wasting your time." Peter turned around, surprised to hear another voice and faced a cranky looking girl with brown hair and bright green eyes.

"Christine? How did you get in here?"

"I just paid your buddy, Sylar a visit. Decided I had better keep an eye out."

"Sylar? Is he here?"

"Nope. The same jackass that got me killed put him in a coma for a while. He's out though. Probably on his way to Claire right now."

"Coma? Claire? What?"

She shook her head and slapped her palm against her forehead. "What are you people going to do without me?" Christine sauntered over to Peter and snatched the hammer from him. "This is pretty good work, but it won't hold _me_ back. Nightmares fall into the dream world which is kind of my thing." She reared back with the heavy tool and put all of her weight into a powerful swing at the glass. It cracked, slowly splintering outward in a spider web pattern. With another blow it crumbled around them. Christine smiled at his shocked expression and made a show of blowing on her nails as though breaking him out of the crude trap had meant no effort at all on her part.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," Peter sighed with relief, moving to hug his savior.

"Seriously people, get it together. I can't baby sit everyone _all_ the time." He gave her a sincere sideways grin and thanked her again before stepping over the broken glass and out of the dream world.

Peter flexed his muscles, tensing them and putting enough strain on his bindings to snap them. He bolted from the bed he had been laying on and rushed to the door, banging on the glass and shouting in hopes of getting some outside assistance.

Edgar looked over his shoulder at the newly awakened Petrelli and shrugged at the guard unit in front of him. "Why not?" He dodged their bullets on the way to the locking mechanism that held Peter's cell in place. He tried to pull the electronic key box out of the wall, severing the wires thinking that maybe it would short the system and release the door. When that didn't work the prisoner inside pressed his palms against the glass, using his heat waves to weaken the window. The speedster drew the fire on himself towards the hot pain of glass, yipping about his feet burning as he ran over it.

Under normal circumstances the viewing pane was designed to be bullet and stress resistant, virtually unbreakable. But when weakened and then immediately assaulted with continuous heavy ammunition, it didn't take long to start cracking and shatter to the floor.

Petrelli sped past the guards and out of the facility. Edgar made a rude hand gesture at them and quickly followed suit.

* * *

Sylar skidded to a stop in the middle of the desert sending sand flying in every direction. Chris was waiting for him in a chair outside of a bleak looking mobile home with a beer in his hand and a twisted grin on his face.

"You're late," he sneered.

"Where is she?" Sylar demanded, lunging at the younger man and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"You tell me," Chris shrugged, chuckling to himself as he took another swig from his bottle. Sylar closed his eyes, focusing on Claire. He remembered the feel of her in his arms as they danced, the way she tasted when he kissed her, the way she smelled and her warmth and her smile, but that was all that came to him. Memories. Claire was no longer calling to him. He could no longer feel the pull in her direction.

"She's…"

"Gone," McKinley finished. "You'll never find her now."

He wasn't lying. Tidal waves crashed over Sylar, crushing him within their depths, sucking the air from his lungs and drowning him in the oblivion that would be eternity without her.

"She can't die."

"She did."

A boiling river of black hate erupted inside of him and washed over his being, removing any trace of goodness that had ever been left behind. Sylar took hold of the mimic's throat and squeezed, sinking iron fingers into the soft flesh, desiring only to hear the man try to scream as life left his pathetic body. Chris only gave him a deranged smile in response though. He grabbed at Sylar's arms and leveraged himself against the dark man to land a harsh kick into his stomach. Sylar released his death grip and flailed backward for a moment before releasing an arch of blue lightning at full voltage.

The mimic dodged the attack and blurred behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling his remaining dagger and shiving Sylar deep in the back, giving the blade a cruel twist as he leaned in.

"You like that? It's one of the last things she felt, well," he rolled his eyes coyly, "except she got it in the head. And I'm pretty sure that she can't move her sweet spot. Speaking of sweet spots, have I ever mentioned just how plump and juicy she is." Chris licked his lips in a mocking manner.

Sylar whirled back around on him and delivered a thundering blow to the face. Chris collapsed onto the dirt with the sound of bone crunching. He watched in horror as his adversary climbed back to his feet and tossed him a smirk while the wound repaired itself.

"Now that's the Sylar _I_ know. The killer. The Boogey Man."

"You don't know anything about me," he snapped as they traded high powered blows.

"I know that you're like me. Trying to figure out who you are and in this whole hellish world your father was the only answer." Sylar paused for a moment, feeling a slight case of déjà vu.

"I know you, Sylar. I know you because we're the same. You hate heroes, but you were prancing around pretending to be one of them. All over a pretty girl," Chris laughed at him hard as he spat the blood from his mouth onto the ground.

"It wasn't about her. I didn't want to be a monster anymore and you took that away from me!" Sylar sent him seizing to the ground under a stream of electricity.

"I didn't take anything from you. I just brought out who you really were. Two weeks ago you were a top agent working to put the bad guys away and protect the good ones. Two weeks, Sylar. That's all it took to break you down and you bring you back." The mimic threw a fireball at him. "It's your nature! We're killers, Sylar!"

* * *

_Rome, 64 A.D._

"_Cassius, no. I'm married to Lucius. We have a family together."_

"_Aurelia, you know you don't belong to him. You're mine. You'll always be mine."_

_Lucius steadied his breathing as he waited around the corner, listening to the conversation between his wife and life long rival._

"_My children, Cassius. I'm not going to do this to them."_

"_Your children… Aurelia, I've seen the future. Your children will be my children. Our lines were meant to cross. Our blood will give rise to a goddess. She'll be more powerful than anyone, even me."_

_Light flickered gently over the walls as the dark man cupped a ball of flame in his hand. Lucius could hear the swishing sound of her dress as she tried to walk away. He inched his way around the corner just far enough to take a look at the scene unfolding. Cassius swept his long black locks away from his face and put his arms out to trap Aurelia between them. She backed against the wall and gave him a withering glare, crossing her arms defiantly. _

"_You can't see the future, Cassius."_

"_I didn't need to. She came to me, Aurelia. Last night, she came to me. She looks so much like you," he said, lifting a finger to trace the contours of her cheek. "She placed her hand on me and gave me a gift. I understand so much more about the world now. I see how things work."_

"_Then you should be able to see that __**this**__ isn't going to work. I'm leaving, Cassius. Don't follow me."_

"_Aurelia," he growled in her ear, pulling her back to him and forcing her face to meet his in a kiss. She slapped him hard enough to send an echo of the action through the night. He recoiled against the pain, touching the side of his face that was flushing with the sting of pain._

"_I will __**never**__ be yours. I __**hate**__ you," she spat at him venomously._

"_If I can't have you, no one will," he fired back, igniting his hands with bright flames._

Kline leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk while he gave Angela Petrelli a meaningful glance.

"We've known one another for a long time, Angela," he started. She gave him a weak smile and crossed her legs at the ankles, leaning forward slightly in the chair and allowing her clasped hands to fall into her lap.

"Yes, Mr. Kline. I suppose we have." The air between them grew tense with nerves. They were reluctant allies, regarding one another with a respectful amount of neutrality even though it would have been obvious to any bystanders that the two had no real warm feelings for each other.

_Tijuana, 1991_

"_Meredith… Oh, Meredith… Come out, come out, wherever you are." She shivered at the malicious tone in the voice. He was supposed to be the figment of a children's story, meant to make ornery little brats behave through fear, but he was real and coming for her. He would kill her and steal her power. Where was her good for nothing brother when she needed him._

_Meredith Gordon was trapped. If she refused to leave the cover of the ladies' bathroom the Boogie Man would find her and murder her in cold blood, or worse, make another attempt at forcefully seducing her. If she tried to make a dash for it and run back into the bar, that disgusting slob, Doyle would get his slimy hands on her again and force her to do only God knows what._

_Stall doors began to fly off their hinges one by one as the menacing steps grew closer. She shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath, igniting her pyrokinesis and preparing for the impending attack. _

"_Samson Gray. Is there a reason why your creeping around in the women's bathroom? I hope you're not lurking around after my girl again. That would be a big mistake. She's mine. Mine to love. Mine to kill." She shuddered again at the other obtrusive voice, holding back a gag._

"_Doyle. Long time no see," she watched his black boots turn on the heel to face the other man. "What makes you so sure that she belongs to you? She's a very pretty girl, Doyle. Maybe I wouldn't mind having her all to myself." They laughed darkly at one another for a moment. There was a loud clang of metal and then a stifled choking sound. They were fighting one another over her. This was her opportunity for escape. _

_Meredith launched herself out of the stall and didn't stop to look at the battle going on behind her as she tossed a random fireball in their direction and bolted for the door. She dashed back into the bar area and tripped over the foot of a man stepping away with drinks in both hands. The shot glasses fell to the floor as his arms flew out to break her fall._

"_Hello," a startled deep voice addressed her. She looked up to see a handsome pair of light brown eyes. "I'm Nathan Petrelli," he introduced himself, standing her back on her feet. She cast a worried glance back at the bathroom and tossed her arms around him. He was warm and safe and a relief from the madness that had been perusing her._

"_Ma, I think I met someone," he whispered into the phone as he watched her sleeping form in the hotel bed later that night. Nathan didn't know why she had been so anxious to leave the bar, but it didn't matter to him. In that moment that he had caught her from her fall, he knew it was meant to happen._

"1992, I believe it was. You first contacted me and revealed your plans for my granddaughter."

"Yes, only to watch as you sent that maniac after her mother and then had her whisked away in the night after the house caught fire. I was… _disappointed_ for years, believing that she was dead."

"We all have our parts to play, Lucius." Angela gave him a knowing smile.

"You say that now," he leered at her. "Now that you know what you have to gain from Miranda."

"The potential of wielding a weapon like that is limitless. We'll be the guiding hands of the world with her power behind us."

"It's always about the power with you, isn't it?" She gave him another smile brimming with arrogance.

"Yes, because you're the original family man, aren't you?" Kline winced at the meaning hidden within her words.

"I've helped you arrange for your family to be seated in positions of power within the D.S.R.E.C. I helped you to convince your son to take that position-"

"Along with helping to manipulate Claire and Sylar together in the process." He tapped his fingers on the desk again, leaning forward in his chair as he glared at the woman intently.

"I've provided mass amounts of wealth to fund the operations-"

"Also, contributing to your own ends. Your assassins made quick work of your list of enemies, didn't they?" Kline sat back in chair again, chewing on his bottom lip and willing himself to not lose his temper.

"And all I asked in return was your participation and to keep watch for Miranda's arrival."

"Which I have done, quite dutifully." Now it was his turn to toss a knowing smile at her.

"Yes. That's why Claire is missing and Sylar is apparently back to terrorizing the city. You're not a very useful pre-cog if you can't see the future!" he roared at her, slamming his hands down on the wooden surface before him and causing her to jump slightly. "Without _them_, the Miranda project is futile. Without their abilities to _gift_ her with, she will never exist and all of my eons of effort for finding the perfect set of talents to _bestow_ upon her will have been wasted!" Kline left his seat to stand in front of Angela. Her eyes flared with fear as his face loomed close to hers. "I suggest that you work to remedy this situation before I reconsider our contract… and your life's value."

* * *

"Thanks," Noah muttered as the guards released the lock on the door to Sylar's cell. The unit had come to investigate when the commotion started. Regulation standards dictated that they launch a full investigation into the situation before the group could be allowed to leave, even though the dangerous ones had already made their escape. An hour of painful boredom later they were finally cleared for freedom.

"Matt, get Molly on the phone. We have to find Claire." The group stalked through the prison ward. Parkman did as he was commanded but suddenly let the phone fall away from his ear with a distraught look on his face.

"Matt, what is it?" Mohinder asked with a sense of dread.

"It's Claire… Molly can't… She's not anywhere."

"You mean she's…"

"Dead?" Noah felt his stomach bottom out.

* * *

"Why, Claire?" he screamed at Chris, the fury in his eyes refusing to give way even though his body was exhausted from their drawn out battle.

"It was the only way," he groaned as the side of his face regenerated from being burned off. "I tried to tear you two apart. I tried to make her like me instead and do it the easy way. I framed you, hoping that if she thought you were evil again, she would leave you alone. I pushed you into killing again so that you wouldn't want to be around. But it didn't work so I had use my last resort. I had to kill her to save you. I had to save Miranda."

The two men whipped around one another in a sandy haze of speed, attacking and defending. They slashed at one another, burning, freezing, electrocuting, punching, kicking, desperately using everything in their arsenals against each other even though they both knew they would keep healing through it.

"Save me from what!"

"The future!" They collapsed into a smoking and bloody fatigued pile. Sylar pushed Chris off of him and slugged him again in the jaw.

"Miranda… She came to me. She told me everything. About Kline, about the department, about how they were going to use you and Claire to turn her into a weapon. You've both been playing into their schemes this entire time! I even got you access to the damn mission file so you could see it all for yourself." Sylar rolled his head to look at the breathless boy beside him.

"Kline has been waiting for you two for flipping ever. He wanted to get you and Claire together to make it easier to manipulate you both. He helped set up the experiment with Brandon Miller. He pitted you guys against the baddest of the bad through the department to seal your relationship and remove the threats to his plans. You and Claire wiped out most of the guys that could have stopped it.

"Miranda took me to him. She got me on the inside of his deal. He thought he was using me to monitor you both and help him keep it all together, but I played him. I worked to split you up so that Miranda would never have to exist. She wouldn't have to destroy the world. God… she was just a normal little girl once. She didn't have any real power except her ability to understand everything. Kline calls her a 'Key'. She told me once, that if we," he gestured to himself and to Sylar, "were the question, she was the answer. She knows everything just by looking at it and touching it.

"And then, when they found her, they killed her whole family. They took her inside the department and injected her with some kind formula to bring out her power. They didn't know that she already had manifested it because Kline filled their heads with bull about all this great stuff she could do. All they did was amp her up and make her to strong to contain. She turned on them. She killed them all. Obliterated everything."

"That's a nice story, kid, but what does it have to do with me and Claire?"

"Together you two are almost invincible. With her shield and all your… stuff, you formed the power base for Miranda. You have would have given them anything they wanted if you thought they would hurt Claire, and with your powers, she would become unstoppable. But if you weren't together, they couldn't use you. If Claire's dead then the catalyst is gone and so are their plans."

"Why are you telling me all this? Why did you save me instead of her?" Sylar asked, trying to repress the tear that wanted to spill over his lashes. She was really gone. Maybe the world was saved for the moment, but what about him?

"Because you're my brother, or half brother at least." Sylar snapped his attention to the other man. He wasn't lying.

Chris McKinley's face bubbled briefly and melted away into one much more familiar.

"Luke?"


	20. Chapter 20

Here's the last chapter before the end!

**Chapter Twenty**

Sylar's head swam with the multitudes of information that he had just been slammed with. So much more began to make sense. He had a brother. Family. But then the thought of family lead him straight back to Claire. How many times had he fantasized over the last two years of… No. He couldn't think about that now. It was over. It was all over.

"I can't believe she's really gone," he whispered to himself, not even thinking that Luke would hear him.

"I took her power. I'm an immortal now too. We can be there for each other and be the family that we always needed. We can do anything together, as _brothers_." Luke made a show of popping a broken finger back into place and wiggling it in the air between them as a display of the healing ability.

"No. No, we can't, Luke." He rolled to his feet as the younger man gave him a wide eyed look of questioning. "Because I'm going to kill you now."

* * *

The heels of Angela Petrelli's designer shoes clacked noisily as she stormed down the hall of the department's prison ward. Her brows were furrowed and the intensity in her eyes simply dared any of the agents between her and her target destination to say something or attempt to stop her. There was the faintest shine of a tear resting in the corner of her eye.

"Noah," she called to the grouping of men slouched against the wall on level three. Angela's tone was stern even while it threatened to crack. Bennett looked up at her with a face she would never forget. His broken grief mirrored her own internal struggle to not give in to hopelessness.

"Claire is…" he couldn't finish the sentence. His mind refused to wrap around the idea.

"Dead. Yes, I know. But this isn't over. We still have time to fix this," she stated, hoping that the strength in her words would help to steel her own resolve. "I've made a terrible mistake, Noah."

Matt and Mohinder tensed against one another. They knew what it usually meant when any of the Petrelli's admitted to making a mistake, let alone the matriarch of the clan.

* * *

Kline rubbed his temples in frustration. A deep pain was searing his mind just behind his eyes. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt pain. True physical pain.

There were the conventional aches that had made his shriveled old heart raw through the long centuries, such as seeing the faces of descendants of the people he once knew. Sometimes it felt like he was made subject to some kind of joke that he alone understood. Millennia of exchanged genetics and polluted blood lines weren't enough to remove some traits from a family. Women still roamed the earth resembling his sweet Aurelia, and men he found fit for extinction still wandered so closely exemplifying his once mortal enemy, Cassius.

But this pain was something new. Even when he had been brought to believe that Claire Bennett had perished in a fire as a baby, the sore gravity of the impending end to his reign had not hit so hard. Now he sat staring at a painting that he had commissioned from one of his most prized pre-cogs. The one known as Sylar knelt over Claire's lifeless body, a long deep gash separating the skin from bone over her forehead.

Kline turned his gaze to the delicate tea cup resting on it's porcelain serving plate and beckoned it to move to his outstretched hand without touching it. The white cup shuddered for a moment and then became still. He snapped his fingers, mentally willing a flame to rise from their tips. Not even a spark heeded his command.

"Miranda?" he called out into the empty space of his office. The specter of his sweetest dreams would not come to him now.

Nearly two thousand years, he mused to himself in silence. Two thousand years of bending the talents of his bloodline to his will and it was finally over. Everything he had strived for, worked for and earned was going to vanish. As Cassius had taken everything that had once meant something to him all those eons ago, now he would finally be undone by his foe's long removed sons. He could feel himself beginning to disappear, evaporating like the time he had borrowed. He spilled curses over the names of the Gods as he stood from his desk and welcomed the grief.

Two thousand years of living had made him more afraid of his inevitable death than any mere mortal could imagine. The very foundations of Kline Enterprises shook as the windows shattered around him under the pain that was his agonizing scream.

* * *

Peter came to a stop just over the ocean's coast. Waves broke over the rocky shores, crashing against them in obstinate rebellion of their broken momentum. Edgar appeared at his side, wiping his brow and panting for breath.

The empath rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and unveiled the tattoo of a spinning compass, a parting gift from his experience with the Sullivan Brothers' Carnival ringleader, Samuel. If Sylar could use shape shifting to relocate a bodily cluster of nerves that served as the only way to end his life, then Peter could use his intuitive aptitude to change the focus of the mystical homing device. He slowly turned in a half circle until he faced the northern point and the direction of his target.

* * *

"Did you know that some varieties of bird known to mate for life will actually commit suicide if their mate dies? It's an instinct. Strange since it's something that doesn't actually work in favor of the species." Sylar chuckled quietly to himself, unable to remove the cutting edge from his voice or the menacing half grin from his face. Some distant corner of his mind was chiding him for finally cracking.

"Sylar, you don't have to do this," Luke croaked at him, gasping for air with every word. His face was turning a particular shade of purple that Sylar couldn't quite come up with a name for. The younger man was being forced to wrap his own hands around his throat as he was levitated a few feet off the ground. Keeping his mental death grip on his brother with one hand, he used the other to hover more sand briefly before sending it through the boy's body. Luke winced and choked even harder as another round of the miniscule grains penetrated his skin and internal organs.

"Maybe I don't _have _to," Sylar rolled his eyes coyly, "but I'm still going to. And do you know why?" He stepped forward so that their faces were only inches apart. "Because there's no one to stop me anymore." His words were barely audible whispers, but the way he spat them made the mimic recoil with fear. Sylar snorted at the sight of weakness and turned his back to him, rolling his eyes up to the stars so that he wouldn't have to look at the tattoo on his arm just then.

"You should be proud of yourself, Luke. No one has ever pissed me off enough to torture them for this long before. I'll admit that I like to showboat some, but most of the time it's just about the kill. Torture gets messy… and after a while the screaming and pleading for their lives gets a little boring. So very few have any real imagination. Otherwise it's just blah, blah, blah." He turned back around to face him one more time. "Say good-bye, Luke." The loose dust around the boy shifted into the wind, slowly picking up speed until a small tornado enveloped him, chewing away at his soft tissues like a sand blaster.

"If you kill me, you'll never find her!" he screamed through the pain. The dirt came to a sudden halt and dropped back to the ground.

"And did you ever have any intentions of telling me where she was?" Sylar moved back into his personal space again.

"No. I can't let you try to revive her," he coughed out as his exposed skin regenerated over the underlying muscle and bone.

"I rest my case then." The vortex of sand started to whirl around Luke again.

_Sylar? Can you hear me?_

"Peter?" He lost concentration on his miniature sand storm and started looking around himself, searching for the origin of the voice in his head. Luke fell to the ground, sputtering for precious air. A few seconds later the Petrelli and Edgar appeared at his side.

"Sylar, where's Claire?" Peter demanded, gripping the dark man by his shoulders.

"I knew I'd seen you before," Edgar piped up, blurring over to Luke's side and poking him lightly with the tip of a sword while he climbed back to his feet. "This is the guy that hired me to go play wrecking crew a while back. Never did understand what the point was."

"Sylar?" Peter repeated, trying to move into his line of vision. He seemed to have shut down his sensory connections to the outside world for a moment as he still refused to completely admit to himself the truth of the matter. After a long minute though he just sunk his head and shook it negatively.

"Right, well, that's my queue to leave." Luke plucked something from the remains of his pants pocket and tossed the object into the dirt at the feet of the men, blinked, and vanished from sight. Edgar fetched a set of figurines from the dust, replicas of Sylar and Claire. Sylar's model was shown kneeling over the blonde woman's body while a nasty rip ran across her forehead.

_Potentials unmet, connections to keep. You have many miles to go before you sleep._

He tried to hold it in. He tried to hide behind his armored walls that protected him from the world at large. He even welcomed the thought of being trapped in another nightmare if it meant that he wouldn't have to face Peter and the fact that Claire was no more. They looked absolutely nothing alike. They didn't sound alike. They didn't smell alike. In reality, they didn't even have much in common except for their shared obsessive tendencies to be heroes, but Peter was the closet thing to Claire left in the world. And it was to much to take.

Sylar fell to his knees in the sand, his heart to broken to even muster the strength it would take to cry for her loss. His eyes scanned over the blankness of the desert. Her body could be buried anywhere. While Peter joined his collapsed state in the dirt, opening his own floodgates of emotion, the faintest glimmer of hope was lit in the farthest reaches of Sylar's mind.

Edgar shuffled his feet awkwardly a few times before joining Peter's side with a long face. "I always liked her," he mumbled, patting the Petrelli on the back and only slightly grimacing as Peter leaned a sobbing face into him.

Deep brown eyes darted randomly over the dunes as he tripped and shuffled his way along, searching for any sign remotely indicating a fresh burial. He couldn't stop himself. His hands were working of their own accord, pawing at the sands every few feet, digging for a body. Sylar would scour every inch of the desert if he had to.

* * *

The beds of Sylar's nails were caked with blood soaked sand. He was opening the wounds as quickly as they were closing while he relentlessly clawed his way through the dirt. Edgar was reclining against a small dune, watching the madness but unwilling to say anything about it, simply hoping that he would run out of steam eventually and stop on his own. Peter's eyes had dried nearly an hour ago already but he still sat in the exact same position staring blankly at the ground, lost in his own mind.

A butterfly floated along on the light breeze and fluttered to a stop over one of Sylar's hands. He violently shook the colorful creature away, not wanting to be distracted from his task, but it kept stubbornly landing with a silent tickle each time. Finally in a fit of frustration the dark man ceased digging to examine the insect.

"Danaus plexippus. You don't belong here." The little curiosity waved it's antennae as if to nod in agreement and fluttered away in the direction of the mobile home. He couldn't explain to himself why, but Sylar felt an odd compulsion to follow the creature. When it landed on the door handle, he reached to touch the smooth metal and was greeted with a memory of Claire opening the door.

Sylar stumbled into the trailer, following a drive to find more of the memories. He touched every surface, watching her clean the house, fiddle with the television, sit at the same table his brother had restrained her against. He found his way to the bed she had slept in and fell into it, burying his face in the pillow that had captured her tears and the scent of her hair. The ghost of her memories lead him back through the trailer to another small room decorated in pink and butterflies with strings of yarn winding together in a vibrant spider web pattern with seemingly random pictures, news clippings and mementoes attached to each strand.

Trembling fingers reached out to touch a section of the time map. Clairsentient images filled his mind, spinning it in a thousand different directions and sending him reeling to the floor under the strain.

_Rome, 64 A.D._

_Cassius sat straight up in his bed from a deep sleep. A strange woman hovered over him, her face tilted to the side only inches from his as her feral blue eyes intently studied his face. He crawled backward from her as she moved to place her hand over his chest._

"_You'll need this to defeat him when the blood stops flowing." Her voice entered his mind even though her lips never moved. Dark energy flashed under her palm, seeping into his body. Cassius shuddered for a moment. When the haze cleared from his vision the girl was gone, but the feeling of her presence remained. His body was the same as ever but there was something very different about him. He felt stronger, more powerful. He tripped his way through the darkened home aimlessly searching for the goddess that had visited him until he came upon the clepsydra he had been working on. Suddenly the inner workings of the machine began to make sense to him. If he moved this rod here and added a wheel there… with water… As Cassius pulled back from his work, the time keeping mechanism slowly turned on it's own power with a gentle ticking sound each time the wheel would rotate._

_The next night he had gone to see Aurelia. She was the most beautiful woman in all of Rome and he had quietly followed her life for years, just waiting for the moment to make her his own. He was widely considered a powerful man, wealthy and blessed by the Gods with the gift to create fire in his hands, but she had never cast a wistful glance his way. Surely another gift from the powers that be was a sign that this was the right time. He tried to explain to her what he had seen, what it had meant to him and to their futures, but she only turned away from him, wishing to return to her precious Lucius. This final rejection was to much. How could she refuse the love of the strongest man in Rome? And for a sniveling coward whose only talent was to bleed endlessly?_

"_If I can't have you, no one will!" he shouted after her, feeling the heat of the flames rising in his palms. Lucius stepped out from the shadows, taking Aurelia into his arms with a vile sneer over her slender shoulders. He instructed her to retreat to their home and sent her away before confronting his sworn foe. The two men stared one another down for a long moment before the fight began. It was a glorious battle that even the mighty Jupiter would have smiled down on. Unfortunately, the only damage that had been taken was to their surroundings. The city was swallowed by bright red and orange flames._

_Cassius had escaped, unaware of the others' fates. He only knew that he would never see his sweet Aurelia again, but that wouldn't stop him from finding a lovely Sicilian bride who bared a vague resemblance to his true love._

_London, 1347_

_Lucius wandered through deserted city streets, pulling his cloak closer to him to ward away the icy chill in the winter air. Several by passers had warned him to stay away from the approaching quarter because of contamination of the plague, but he had nothing to fear in the face of death, only a long lasting vendetta to attend to. _

_A young man with mussed black locks and unkempt clothing paused around a corner for him, waiting with a sharp blade that he levitated through the air with only the will of his mind. As Lucius circled the corner, the knife found its way into his chest, twisting of its own volition. He grunted, not in pain, but of the unsettling grind of his heart's muscle tissue attempting to pump around the steel. He jerked the blade from his flesh, feeling welcome relief as the wound closed and sneered at the shocked expression on his target's face. The boy darted from him, further into the plagued quarter with no reserve other than escaping the immediate threat behind him. His boots thudded noisily against the stones of the street leading Lucius directly to him. For people regarded to be so highly intelligent they always seemed to lack the necessary attributes of experience and patience to outwit him._

_He had spent well over a thousand years hunting the descendants of his wife's murderer. This boy would only serve as one more notch in a seemingly endless tally. Eventually he would find them all though. Eventually he would see Cassius's line end forever as though it had never existed at all._

_Arizona, 1961_

"_Now, why don't you tell me about this dream you had, Angela?" Angela Shaw hesitated as she gazed into the oddly familiar and intent blue eyes of one of Coyote Sands' directors._

"_The dreams… They don't always make sense. I don't even understand them half the time."_

"_That's okay. Just try to describe what you saw as best as you can."_

"_I watched the world burn, Mr. Monroe." She reluctantly relayed the extent of one of her most troubling apocalyptic visions. Her worst nightmare had shown her a young woman with long black hair and wild blue eyes standing in the middle of a field of fire while the very earth around her was crushed into oblivion. "Like I said, none of it even makes sense. My mother tells me that it's just a dream and it doesn't really mean anything," she finished._

_Of course this information wouldn't mean anything, yet. Adam hadn't wasted a second of time after Angela left. He bounded for the nearest phone he could find and rolled his fingers over the rotary dial with an urgent need to share the news._

"_Lucius, it's Adam. I found a pre-cog who I think saw the girl you're looking for."_

_Little Rock, 1976_

_Lucius watched the dark figure creep around the outside of a small house on the edge of town. A dog started to bark somewhere just out of sight, but an erratic whistling sound made its way from his target and soothed the protective animal. He had been waiting for this moment. To catch his prey stalking another innocent victim. The man was completely oblivious to his presence and it only made the hunt more sweeter. He had spent centuries honing his ability to sneak up on their kind. The nature of their existence had made them all somewhat paranoid and ever vigilant of witnesses but now he had this game down to an exact science. He would wait patiently until they were distracted, mesmerized by the twisted mechanics of another person's brain, and then he would strike while they were vulnerable._

_A woman screamed briefly inside the house before her call for assistance was stifled. Lucius heard the dull thud of a body hitting the floor and knew that it was time. He moved from his position in the shadows and spun the barrel of his revolver, ready to strike down one of his last conquests remaining in the world. And then she appeared._

"_You don't want to do that," her blissful sing song voice melted into his heart. So many faces and names were quickly forgotten over the span of his long life, but he would never forget a single detail about his goddess. His breath was pulled from his body with awe, basking in her presence. _

"_Why would you choose to protect this man? He's a murderer. Samson Gray has killed untold amounts of innocents."_

"_And he pays for it." Her wild blue eyes ticked upward to stare at something above his head. Her long pale fingers twitched together as she raised her hand to touch what he could not see._

"_You're asking me to spare his life?"_

"_He's already been dealt with." _

_Confusion filled him. Obviously the wretched man was still alive and well, no doubt in the process of acquiring another bit of power, but if this goddess proclaimed that he had already been taken care of, who was he to question her divine authority. With a high pitched giggle that sent a deep shudder down his spine she disappeared before he could blink._

_New Jersey, 1981_

"_I can't believe you're really doing this," Gloria muttered spitefully under her breath, averting her eyes from her husband._

"_He's coming for us. I saw him yesterday, walking down the street like he owned the place."_

"_No, he's coming for _you_."_

"_And what do you think is going to happen to him when I'm gone?" he said with a sharp tone, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the little boy playing with a toy car in the back seat. "We have to. I don't know how long I can hold him off if we don't leave. If I can collect enough power then maybe someday I can finally end the son of a bitch and it'll be over. Then maybe we can come back for him."_

"_You really expect me to believe that?"_

"_He's been hunting us for as long as anyone can remember, Gloria. He killed my great grandfather. He killed my grandfather. He killed my father in our own god damn house. It was a fucking miracle that I even escaped back then. And now he's going to end us for good if he can get his damn hands on us."_

"_But why do we have to do _this_, Samson? He's my baby. I can't just leave him like this. Why can't you just run away without us?"_

"_Enough!" he screamed at her. His hands gripped the steering wheel of the car hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "You can't protect him, Gloria. You're not one of _us_. And the bastard always find us. He always knows. The only way is hide him in plain sight. He expects us to run, but he won't see that coming."_

_The car pulled into a dusty lot of a road side diner. He ordered his son to get out of the car while his wife waited. They walked inside and the little boy wandered over to a table with his little car, making vrooming noises while his father talked to another man._

"_There's the boy, now where's the cash?" he asked gruffly._

"_Here's four hundred. You think that's going to be enough?"_

"_It'll get us to the border. That's all that really matters right now." He motioned for the other man to step away from his wife and follow him into a corner out of her ear shot. "You really going to go through with this? It won't work if you don't leave her."_

"_Of course I'm going through with it. Virginia…" his eyes rolled over to the woman sitting at the table, eyeing the little boy with the car hungrily, "she didn't used to be so bad. This whole baby thing though… God I can't get away from her fast enough. She gets crazier by the day. I've already got a place picked out."_

"_Good. Get the hell out of town while you still can." He waved to his son to come back to him and thrust the boy forward to the woman at the table before walking out of the diner without so much as a good-bye. He jumped back into his car and pushed it into drive, ready to exit the lot._

"_Samson, stop the car!" Gloria screamed at him, looking through the rear window to her son trying to follow them._

"_No," he answered coldly._

"_He's my baby! I can't leave him! Gabriel!" she shrieked with tears in her eyes._

"_I'm not going to let you fuck this up for me!" he yelled back at her with a murderous look in his eyes. She didn't even see it coming. He flicked his fingers, the simple motion shredding a deep cut through her skull and into her brain. She was dead before her head hit the head rest of the seat. He crudely shoved her body out of the car and quickly sped away, leaving his son to cry over his mother's death. He didn't even look back. He couldn't. Not while knowing what would be coming his way._

_Juarez, 1990_

_Samson Gray popped his neck and knuckles systematically as he watched and waited for the young blonde to leave the liquor store. It had taken ages to find her without her idiotic brother tagging along, holding onto her skirt like a pathetic runt seeking security from its mother. He could have gone for the moron. He liked to take it easy these days, but that was just a little to easy. Meredith Gordon on the other hand… That perky little number had some spunk to her, and a body, and a face, and a smell that sent a shiver through him that he couldn't explain. She did something to him and he hated that he liked it. Maybe he wouldn't even kill her. It was a tough call just then. But she had something he needed. Meredith was a pyrokinetic and from what he had heard from his predecessors, Lucius _hated_ fire with a passion. He often wondered if maybe that wasn't the old bastard's weakness._

_Just as his target was exiting the store and he was prepared to make his move someone tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned to face the man brave enough to touch him, his arms swung out from his body and dangled awkwardly at the elbows like a marionette. _

"_Hello, Samson," a dangerously obnoxious voice accompanied the chubby man. His hands were raised up to chest level and his fingers mirrored the captured movements, as though they were controlling an invisible set of strings. "Mr. Kline sends his best wishes. Nice man, that one. But I'm told that you're not so nice. Apparently you have a thing for stalking Barbies. Little creepy, dont'cha think?"_

"_Says the fucking puppet master," he spat venomously, but his retort held no effect. His adversary was looking just over his hunched shoulder at the blonde woman getting into her car. _

"_She's beautiful," he whispered, his eyes growing wide with open admiration. _

_Kermit, 1992_

"_Be careful, Noah. She's a very powerful fire starter," Angela Petrelli's voice rang over the phone. _

"_Something tells me that this isn't just a standard bag and tag, Angela," he glared at the pay phone as though it were the infuriating woman he was talking to._

"_Because it's not… exactly…" She couldn't tell him the whole truth. She couldn't let anyone know that her biological granddaughter was residing within the home of Bennett's assigned target. And she certainly couldn't let him know that she had already seen the apartment burn to the ground, leaving the child trapped inside, terrified but unharmed. Angela would see to it that the clean up crew would rescue baby Claire and make it look as if she had perished in the impending blaze._

_When those loose ends were tied up, she would arrange for the child to be whisked away and then given to a loving family. Claire Gordon would die, buried under a mountain of paperwork and be reborn as Claire Bennett. She would be safely hidden away in plain sight. Lucius would never be able to find her. He would never be able to use her in his schemes._

"_I've got a bad feeling about this. Something just isn't right about it," Claude mumbled as he shoveled the last bit of his convenient store bought pastry into his mouth and tossed the wrapper on the ground while Noah hung up the phone._

_New York, 2006_

_Chandra Suresh yawned and stepped away from his computer screen. It was nearly two in the morning and he was exhausted, having spent the last few hours since his shift on cab duty was over, working diligently on an algorithm that he believed would help him to locate certain 'special' individuals throughout the world. A tall woman popped into the room once he was out of sight, flickered her wild eyes about the space for a moment and then bent over the computer to study Suresh's work. She twitched her nose and shook her head a few times before waving a hand over the keyboard, altering one his sequences. Her head snapped back to the doorway he had exited the room through, hearing him returning and vanished as quickly as she had appeared. _

_Chandra coddled his steaming tea cup with a faint smile on his face as he came back to sit at the computer again. He glanced up at his progress from a sip and nearly spilled the drink over his lap. He had done it. The program was working, already supplying the names of people with potentially extraordinary abilities._

_New York, 2009_

_Time had frozen Peter Petrelli and Sylar in place while Arthur's body spilled blood over the carpet, a bullet lodged deep into his forehead. The same woman pushed rogue locks of black hair out of her eyes with a puff of air from the corner of her mouth. Her face wore a slightly agitated expression as she knelt down over the fallen Petrelli's body and placed her hand over his chest. A shimmer of light was pulled from him and she cupped the glowing energy in her hands. With a quickly stolen glance at the other men in the room, she popped out of the scene and time resumed._

_New York, 2010_

_The willowy girl next appeared in an alternate reality where a battle was taking place between Claire Bennett and Sylar. Time was once again frozen, streams of energy standing still in the air that separated them. Claire's force field was absorbing mass amounts of chaotic power from Sylar's attacks. She twitched her nose a few times and placed her hand on the blonde's back, depositing the glimmer of light that had been stolen away from Arthur Petrelli. The catalyst, in conjunction with the amount of energy flowing into Claire would create a devastating explosion of powers that would force the possession of Brandon Miller from her body and grant her a form of immunity to similar attack, this ensuring that the enemy could be properly defeated instead of repetitiously jumping from body to body until an opportunity for escape opened._

_Maryland, 2011_

_Luke Campbell took a long drink from the bottle of soda he was holding and propped his feet up on a stool, reclining in his chair, flipping through the channels on the television until he came across breaking news footage. He nearly spit his drink out in a spray as he watched cameras capturing Sylar and a few other people dressed in black body armor escorting some kind of 'special' criminal from a security vehicle to a courthouse where the person would face a judicial trial for their crimes. His brother, the infamous serial killer, was working on the side of law enforcement with the D.S.R.E.C. There had to be a mistake. _

_Luke crawled out of his chair and to the television, touching the screen with both hands as though he had to make sure what he was seeing was real. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a strange woman suddenly appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. _

"_Who the hell are you?" he demanded, whirling around on a young woman before him._

"_That wasn't important just then. You have to see something now." He jutted out his hand in front of him when she moved to touch him and forced ripples of microwave energy from himself. A glimmering light barrier appeared over her and deflected the attack. Long pale fingers twitched at her sides and Luke was forced against the wall, being held there by invisible bonds. "I'm not the one who is going to hurt you," she whispered quietly, moving to touch him again. He writhed under the contact, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as visions of the near future raced through his mind._

_When Luke opened his eyes again they were standing in an ornately decorated hallways just outside of a wide set of dark wooden double doors. He was compelled to follow the alien girl through the doors and sit in a chair in front of a desk where another stranger waited._

"_Hello, Mr. Campbell. My name is Mr. Kline and I understand that you don't approve of your half brother, Gabriel Gray's new lifestyle. I'm about to make you an offer you can't refuse."_

_New York, 2011_

_Luke singled out the most prospective upcoming agent within the D.S.R.E.C. Chris McKinley was developing a very impressive record and had already been awarded several commendations for captures as well as courage under fire. He was next in line to join the first response team with Sylar once one of the members were out of the way. Luke hired a speedster from Chicago to act as bait, calling attention to himself so that the department would assign agents to bring the criminal in for arrest. Since the first response team was already out on a top tier mission, the next best team would be put into play. He waited until McKinley and his partner were in a vulnerable position, defending against the speedster, and then he ambushed them, killing them both and dispatching of McKinley's body so that it would never be found. Then he used his new shape shifting capability to impersonate the man, calling in the accident and infiltrating the department._

_Campbell had picked off a jumper previously and used the power to lure his desired team out onto a call. He proceeded to wreak havoc on their weakest member, eventually confusing the man into diving out of an open window and thus removing himself from the team so that Agent McKinley could be moved up. _

_The first two weeks of active duty, working alongside his unsuspecting brother and Claire had been a little more dull than he had anticipated. Sylar and Claire did most of the heavy lifting while he and Jones had been directed to stay out of harm's way by the task leader, Noah Bennett. It did grant him a unique opportunity to observe the pair in action though. He also witnessed the way his brother gave the little blonde lingering glances and side ways stares every time her attentions were diverted. This would work to his advantage._

_After several futile attempts to split the couple up, under the guise of testing the resolve of their relationship to Kline, he resorted to desperate measures. Luke followed Charisma into Sylar's apartment and watched as he rejected her, ordering her to leave and never come back. Using the mentalist's power he pushed the thought onto her to shoot his brother. While they were both distracted he sedated them both, keeping Sylar asleep while he tacked the obnoxious partner to the ceiling in a notorious fashion of the old serial killer. He lead Matt Parkman and Mohinder Suresh to evidence of his copy cat killing spree that had been hidden by Bennett because even that old fool had started to believe that maybe Sylar had changed for the better. Luke lead them to Jones's body and convinced everyone that it was Sylar's doing in hopes that the disgusting act would be enough to rekindle Claire's fear and hatred for him._

_When that didn't work Luke resorted to even lower measures. He poisoned Noah's coffee and took over his form while the man was sick. He had Parkman alter her mind so that Sylar would be the enemy again and she would go after him. Somehow the strange connection between the two foiled that idea, but also left her open for a much more devious attack._

_Luke impersonated Sylar and came to her apartment that night. He tried to seduce her but she sensed that something wasn't quite right. He sedated her and used an illusion to convince her that the encounter had been real. Seeing them pull through another disaster no worse for the wear had been extremely aggravating. It was time for a last ditch option. He would kill her._

_Feral blue eyes observed the desert tragedy while Luke was frozen in place over Claire's body. She would have to steal the catalyst away one last time before it was lost forever. In the second before the woman would take her last breath, a hand was placed on her chest, releasing the light._

_Rome, 64 A.D._

_A man stood with his children gathered around him, watching as the city below them burned and crumbled. The eldest female of the children gave a sharp gasp when the woman appeared and placed her hand on the girl's chest. Light rippled between the two, being transferred from one vessel to another. To late, she realized that the man had turned to see what the problem was with his daughter. She muttered a few silent curses to herself and disappeared again. It was to late to go back in time and change the situation because the catalyst was already gone, and she couldn't do him any harm without altering all of the future histories._

"Sylar?" a faint voice was echoing back to him from somewhere beyond the haze of intrusive memories. "Sylar!" the call increased to a harsh volume. He could feel a pair of hands violently shaking his shoulders, trying to wake him from his stupor.

"I think he's coming around," another voice sounded from a little further away. He opened his eyes to see Peter and Edgar looming over him with distraught expressions on their faces.

"Whatever you do, don't touch the strings," he mumbled as he sat up and attempted to rub the throbbing ache away from his temples.

"I already did. Nothing happened," Peter said with confusion. Edgar eyed the time map apprehensively as though he expected the strands of yarn to attack him any moment. "I've touched everything in this place and got nothing."

"Luke has stealth. You won't find any trace of him here, but Claire is everywhere and…" Peter was looking at him like he had finally lost what little sanity had been holding him in place for that long. "The girl… She brought me here to see this, but why only me…" His eyes picked up on a gentle fluttering motion on his peripheral. The butterfly that he had been so compelled to follow earlier was sitting on a weathered coloring book, lightly flapping its wings.

Sylar picked up the child's book and flipped through the pages. Peter hovered over his shoulder and stared in wide eyed horror at the drawings of a little girl being abused and manipulated by the hands of people in black uniforms and white lab coats.

"What's all that rubbish supposed to mean?" Edgar asked when the pictures turned into long complicated sequences of numbers followed by the words: _If I can destroy them, I can save them._

"It's an equation for the propulsion of energy through undefined space. I've never seen anything like this before. It's like she used string theory to…"

"Oh my God," Peter murmured, covering his mouth with his hand.

"These are directions on how to travel through time to a specific point." Sylar poured over the numbers again, craving understanding. "I think I'm supposed to do this. To go there."

"But it's going to take all three of us to generate enough power to do it and then there's always the question of how you get back. Where are you going in the first place? What if this is some kind of messed up trick to get you out of the way permanently?"

"Luke isn't smart enough to come up with something like this. I can't explain why I need to do this, Peter, but I know I have to." Sylar climbed to his feet and hesitantly reached out to the white string that was labeled for Claire. Images of her life filtered through him. He watched her smile and laugh and dance under a warm sun before a darker memory flooded into him. She was standing in the bathroom of the home they were currently residing in, looking at something over her shoulder through the mirror. Claire took a broken crayon and scribbled a message over the pane of glass. _It's not to late. You can save me. _She quickly took a wash cloth and wiped the message away as someone knocked on the door.

Sylar shook his head to clear the images. He carefully untied the white strand of yarn from the rest of the map and lightly brushed it against his face before looping it and hanging the string around his neck just under the torn collar of his shirt.

As the three men stepped out into the warm desert night, Peter caught his eyes roaming over the expanse of sands in every direction.

"Sylar," he came to rest his hand on the dark man's shoulder, "if it takes a thousand years of scouring every corner of the earth, we'll find her." Peter's words were strong and filled with confidence, but they both knew that they didn't have that kind of time waiting around for them.

They all stood in a circle together, each placing their hands on the shoulders of the man at their sides and concentrated on pouring all of their energies into Sylar. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a darkened room that appeared to be a small home office. Every wall was lined with shelves full of books. A desk with a computer rested in a corner while a particularly fluffy looking sofa sat in the center of the room with a pink blanket draped over it. The curtains were carefully drawn to keep light out of the room. He flinched when the door opened.

A little girl, no more than maybe five years of age walked up to him without any sign of fear. She had long messy black curls and bright piercing blue eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling an unsettling amount of power emanating from the child.

"They call me Miranda," she said in a high pitched voice as a wide smile spread over her face.


	21. Chapter 21

Okay, I fibbed a little. This was supposed to be one long last chapter, but it turned out to be a lot longer than I expected so I split it up into two parts. Many, many thanks to everyone who has given reviews and messages. Especially Jamie and Ivy for sticking around since the beginning. You're all awesome! Most of this chapter is set to the tune of "Teardrop" by Massive Attack, which I've officialy dubbed as being Miranda's song. Hope you enjoy the big finale!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One (Part One)**

_Fate. Destiny. Fortune. There are many names for the cruel creature that guides our lives in ways that we cannot understand. Whether she is believed to be a higher power, or to not exist at all, we are all subject to the lots that she deals for us. But are our futures truly set in stone? Or can we change the circumstances of which we are afflicted and maybe, just maybe, save ourselves and those around us? _

_Wherever our lives may take us, whether we are meant to be monsters or angels, heroes or villains, we can all share in the unity of one great cosmic joke. All of us, those destined to be ordinary and special, mortals and the immortal alike will keep running in vicious circles._

_

* * *

_"So you're the one that this is all about." Sylar glanced down at his watch and observed the hands spinning around the face seemingly at random before freezing in place.

"Yes, I suppose I am. Although you play a rather large role in my creation as well." Miranda beamed another shining smile at him. Her eyes twinkled in an oddly familiar way.

"Where is this? Is this the future? The past? Why did you bring me here?"

"This is my home, where my family lives. You traveled through a temporal rift in space that converged into this point in a dimension paralleling your own, although technically this is the future version of your own world. Since I don't currently exist in your dimension anymore I had to bring you here to show you what's at stake for your world. I couldn't risk information about this future being left in your time when I'm no longer there to protect it."

Sylar blinked a few times, surprised at the intellectual capacity of the small child. She giggled playfully at his confusion.

"Miranda!" a deep male voice that he didn't quite recognize called for the girl.

"Coming!" she responded happily. She skipped over to the couch and grabbed the pink blanket from it. He started to follow her when she moved for the door, but she stopped and held out a hand for him to remain behind. "You have to stay here. The portal only works one time so I can't afford to mess this up." A deep sadness was reflected in her eyes as she looked back to the door.

"Bad things are about to happen. They're all going to die." Sylar started to offer his help, but the strange little girl held a tiny hand up and snapped her fingers together, effectively shutting his mouth before he could speak anymore. "You can't change what's going to happen today. I just brought you here to see. You'll understand soon. I promise." She gave him one final smile and left the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

He waited there patiently as he had been instructed to and listened as a chorus of voices started to sing happy birthday to Miranda. Near the end of the song a loud crack rang back to him followed by shouts and gunfire. There was a dull thud like a body hitting the floor. Sylar summoned an electrical pulse to his hands, ready to charge through the door and assist in stopping whatever was happening, but only a few little blue sparks danced at his fingers and died away. His powers weren't working here.

Sylar heard hurried footsteps run past the window and he delicately peeked through the curtain. A solar eclipse was taking place in the sky as the little girl ran away through a wooded area, a blonde woman that he assumed was her mother dragged her by the hand. Teams of men, clad in black armored uniforms bearing the D.S.R.E.C. insignia topped the hill with their weapons drawn. He was forced to watch helplessly as the agents fired on the blonde woman. She fell to the ground and Miranda was taken into their custody.

A hand gently gripped his shoulder and the scene changed again. An older version of Miranda, maybe twelve or so, stood behind him. She raised a pale finger to her mouth, urging him to stay silent. She took his hand and lead him down a hallway constructed of heavy cement blocks, closely resembling the department's prison ward. Agents and laboratory technicians walked by them seemingly oblivious to their presence. They came to a thick steel door with electronic as well as intricate combination locks marked as the entrance to level five. Miranda waved a hand over the door and it slowly opened. She continued to lead Sylar past the rows of guarded prison cells and down another side corridor that he didn't recognize as existing in his own time. A freshly constructed level six area materialized before him.

The duo stepped out onto a platform overlooking a large bay room with at least a hundred agents as well as various scientist's milling about. In the center of the room was the five year old version of the girl, strapped into a steel chair that was bolted to the floor. White sensory cables were attached to nearly every part of her body.

"Hello, Miranda," a blonde man with blue eyes addressed her. The child simply glared at him with contempt. "My name is Mr. Kline. You don't know me yet, but I've known about you for a very long time. You're destined to be a powerful young woman. We're here to help you become that."

Sylar shuffled closer to the railing of the platform as a group of people in white lab coats walked by.

"Don't worry about them. We're phased out of time and space right now. They could walk right through you and never you're there," she whispered to him.

"What is this?"

"This is the day after I was taken from my family. This is when I became… more. I traveled through the past for hundreds of my own years trying to find a way to fix everything, to change the future. But every time I changed even one small variable, the end scenario was always the same or worse. It seems that fate has a way realizing itself regardless of what I do, but you still have the power to alter the outcome. You can save them all." Sylar raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Do you know what a strange attractor is?"

"It's a part of chaos theory. Also known as the butterfly effect." He smirked at her.

"Does a butterfly flapping it's wing in Brazil cause a tornado in Texas?" they asked simultaneously and laughed as if they were sharing a private joke.

"The theory basically states that when any random variable is introduced into a determinable system, then the future state of that system will become chaotic and unpredictable." Miranda smiled fondly at him for his answer.

"Two objects in space that normally would have no reason at all to join one another become exponentially more powerful when they do. Like you and Claire. You two have no real logical business being together, and yet you are because you're drawn to one another like strange attractors. Even when she hates you more than anything, you're pulled together by the force of those passions. It's impossible for you to be ambivalent to one another." Sylar nodded to himself, mulling over that little insight.

"That pattern has been repeating itself for almost two thousand years. There's something in the blood, in your nature that draws you to her, just as your ancestor Cassius was compelled to pursue Kline's wife, Aurelia. He's been at war with the members of your heritage since her death, preventing such a union and killing them all until there was only two left."

"Me and Luke," he mumbled with a tinge of surprise.

"Yes. Unfortunately he ordered Luke to kill your father, and then he killed Luke once his usefulness had run out. The only reason _you're_ alive is because of me. When your power is combined with Claire's… it becomes chaotic but potent. All of your strengths without any of your weaknesses." He wanted to protest but stopped when she held another finger to her mouth for silence.

"Now, Miranda, my darling. You're holding out on me," Kline said with a false sweetness to his tone. "I know that you can do so much more that you're showing us."

She gave the man a bitter scowl and tensed beside him. Sylar wondered if he would have to attempt to restrain her if she decided to attack. Reading his thoughts, a small smile crept over the corner of her mouth and she rolled her eyes at him sarcastically. _As if you could._

"I never wanted to be this… thing," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I didn't obtain abilities because I didn't need or want them. I was fine the way I was."

"And what exactly is that?"

"Kline calls me a 'Key'. My core ability is… Something like a combination of intuitive aptitude and empathic mimicry, but stronger. I know how everything falls into it's place without the hunger because I just understand. If you are the question, then I am the answer." The words made sense, but the meaning behind them didn't. Sylar quirked another questioning brow. "You'll understand soon," she said with some amusement.

The blonde man below was rubbing his temples in frustration. He waved to one of the people in the white coats and a woman cautiously approached holding a syringe filled with a dark red liquid.

"You don't want to do that," the younger version of Miranda said with a clear warning tone to her little voice. Kline waved again at a group of armed guards behind him and they disappeared for a moment before returning with a male and female in prison garb with their heads covered by black cloth bags. Their hands and feet were bound with heavy steel cuffings and chains, and slim electrical boxes were fastened to their chests, regulating a chemical drip. The coverings were removed from their faces to reveal Claire and Sylar.

"Now," Kline lost his false sweetness, "you're going to be a good little girl and accept a dose of our formula, or they're going to die. Again and again and again."

Sylar watched himself attempt to struggle through the daze he was under but his resistance was met with repetitious and painful electrical shocks from what appeared to be a cattle prod. He fell to his knees and Claire made a weak screaming sound, also trying to resist. One of the guards punched her heartily in the face and she joined Sylar on the floor. Two guns were trained on the backs of their heads. Miranda started to cry.

The woman with the syringe stepped closer and prepared a spot on the girl's arm for the injection. Miranda squirmed under her straps, moving to much for the technician to give her the shot and snapping her head at the hands that touched her with biting motions. Kline sighed heavily and nodded to one of the guards holding the prisoner's captive. A loud shot rang through the expanse of the bay area and Sylar fell face first the rest of the way to floor, blood pooling around his body. Claire and Miranda both screamed and struggled against their bonds.

Finally Kline lost his patience with the situation and snatched the needle away from the shaking hands of woman, forcefully stabbing it into Miranda's arm himself with little finesse. She shuddered violently for a moment and the space around her fluctuated, rippling slightly.

"Wonderful," the blonde man said with a twisted man as he clapped his hands. Sylar had healed from the gun shot and raised himself back to his knees in time to see a long line of captured people with abilities be paraded in front of the girl. "Take their powers, Miranda." She shook her head negatively and the guard stationed behind Claire gave her head a threatening nudge with his gun.

With tears in her eyes, one arm was released so that she could reach out to touch the prisoners individually. Among the collection of abilities being fed to the girl, Sylar saw Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Hiro Nakamura, Edgar, Peter, and virtually every 'special' he had ever known. After the line was finished being herded by for absorption, the guards hauled Claire and Sylar to their feet and dragged them away, out of sight again.

"As long as you cooperate, no one has to be harmed, darling," Kline said as he placed a kiss on top of Miranda's head the way a doting father would. A hand gripped Sylar's shoulder and the scene changed again.

They stood by watching silently as a helicopter landed over a battlefield. An army was fast approaching with countless soldiers and tanks in the ranks. Another version of Miranda was rudely shoved out of the aircraft and left behind as it fled the area. This little girl was maybe eight or nine, and she stood her ground without a hint of fear as all manner of weaponry was exercised on her.

Sylar recognized Claire's shielding ability generate around her, deflecting all of the incoming attacks. A high pitched sound frequency came from the girl and forced all of the exposed hostiles to shrink to the ground, covering their ears in pain. Spikes of flame shot up around them all and the earth was ripped down the middle of the field, quaking, shifting into a swirling vortex of dirt and rocks, swallowing the enemy and grinding them into oblivion before moving back into place. When the dust settled, the helicopter returned and landed just outside the crackling forest of fire that was left.

Kline stepped out from the vehicle with his arms outstretched as if he were waiting to be embraced by his prodigy. Miranda simply glared at him.

"When do I get to see them again?" she demanded. "I've done everything you've asked. Now I want to see them!"

"You're far from finished my dear. You have many miles to go before you sleep." He smirked at her with cruelty in his eyes.

"This is only the beginning," Miranda said gloomily, turning to Sylar. "He uses me to strike down anyone daring to oppose him. He aims to control the world and govern all of our kind. But…" Sylar gave her an encouraging look to continue. "I didn't fully grow into my power until I was an adult. My mother used to tell me that I had my father's temper." She smiled ruefully and he felt he knew where the conversation was going. "He refused to let me see them unless he was going to torture them in front me… One day… I finally lost it."

Suddenly they were facing the grown up Miranda back within the confines of the level six compound. Once again Sylar and Claire were brought out and unmasked, forced to kneel before Kline. She was staring vacantly at something invisible in the air above her and he snapped his fingers sharply to get her attention.

"Sometimes I wonder if you realize how much work I've put into making you as great as you are. I turned you into a true goddess, Miranda. You are now the strongest being to have ever walked this earth, and yet you are not grateful. You force me to do these things, my dear. Your insolence is what makes me hurt other people. Now, you will do as I say, or I will find a way to end them, _permanently_."

"No," she whispered, still refusing to look at him. "I'm not afraid anymore. Death is a merciful kindness next to you." Sylar watched as the air rippled around her. He could feel a power surge growing inside of her. Miranda raised her arms and the earth trembled violently under the motion.

"No!" Kline shouted at her as he was knocked from his feet.

"You don't have to do it this way!" Sylar screamed at her. He turned to face Claire and they shared a knowing glance. She nodded to some unspoken question and shifted so that the hands bound behind their backs could lace their fingers together.

"If you can destroy us, you can save us," Claire whispered gently, locking her eyes with Miranda. She slowly brought her hands together from their outstretched positions and the fabric of space and reality shuddered, crumbling and helpless against her pull.

The building's walls bowed inward dangerously and the floor fractured and split under the strain. Sylar looked on as his future self leaned over to kiss Claire one final time before their bodies were torn apart by Miranda's gravitational flux. As her hands came closer together all of their surroundings disintegrated into a dust cloud that was drawn into her palms. Once the hands touched, a flash of gray light was seen and then she opened them again to reveal a bright ball of energy from the condensed matter.

"He comes for us, you know. He always comes back," she muttered into the glowing sphere.

And then he was back in the little home office, his heart still thundering erratically against his chest.

"Now you see exactly what's at stake," a sweet and innocent little five year old voice called to him, interrupting his horror bound reverie. "And you're the only one that can change it."

"Why me?" She gave him such a sad little look.

"Because of the butterflies. I stepped on one and killed millions of people." Miranda left the room for a moment and reappeared holding a sheathed katana. Sylar readily recognized the sword, even without the Japanese symbol on the handle. It was the blade that had pierced his chest only a few years ago and very nearly ended his life.

"Hiro, gave me this to me as a gift. He told me the story of the mighty Kensei and how he saved the woman he loved from a dragon by cutting his own heart out." The sword was entirely to big for her tiny hands to handle, but she managed with carefully calculated movements.

"I stepped on _one _butterfly and killed _millions_. There is no way for _me_ to change the variables without the butterfly effect rippling through the rest of time. The only way to save the past and protect the future is for me to never exist at all."

"I don't understand," he stuttered, audibly gulping.

"Yes you do," she smiled at him coyly. "Kline isn't exactly an immortal the way everyone thinks he is. He's actually sort of a blood empath. He draws his power from his family. So long as his descendants live, so will he and he has some amount of control over their powers through that connection. But once the blood stops flowing, he becomes vulnerable. The only trick, is that you can't kill him, not if you want _her_ to live anyways. The second she's revived, he will be as well."

"How do I find her?" He couldn't conceal the desperation in his voice. Miranda wiggled her finger at him and he willing knelt down until they were almost eye to eye. She pulled at the collar of his shirt and tugged the strand of white yarn from its hiding place. Fingering the string that represented Claire's life she locked her gaze on his and shared one final vision.

"You know what you have to do now. It's time for you to go." Her eyes twinkled at him in a way melted his cold damaged heart. "Click your heels three times and say 'There's no place like home'."

"Seriously?" he eyed her cynically. Her gaze was unwavering. Sylar sighed but climbed back to his feet and followed through with the ridiculous notion.

"There's no place like home," he grumbled. Nothing happened except little Miranda bursting into a hysterical fit of giggles.

"Sorry. I just wanted to see you do that," she laughed. A tiny hand touched his and his vision shuddered.

When he opened his eyes he was standing in the exact same spot he had left from. Peter and Edgar were staring at him expectantly.

"I know what we have to do now," he roughly whispered.

"What?" Edgar nearly growled.

"You didn't even go anywhere," Peter groaned.

"Oh, I went somewhere alright," Sylar muttered under his breath, ignoring their protests as he walked back into the mobile home for the last time. He carefully studied the time map in Miranda's room, noting how many strings were intertwined with the dark blue strand that was labeled for himself. He disentangled the strand and watched as the map fell to the floor. With one of their strings remaining, the timeline continued to exist. But with _both_ his and Claire's strands removed it collapsed and ceased to be.

* * *

"As you all remember, when I was a young woman my family had taken me to Coyote Sands," Angela began her story. "Among the people that I met there, Charles, Daniel, Bobby, that was also the place where I first met Adam Monroe. He was acting as a counselor and director for a short time.

"One day Adam had pulled me aside after learning about my dreams and prompted me to tell him about some of the terrible apocalyptic visions I had. At the time none of the things I saw had made any sense to me, but I knew that they were events that I was meant to keep from happening. Thus, why we formed the Company to begin with. Little did I know that at the time I had revealed the worst of my dreams to Adam, he immediately repeated the information to a man named Kline. Kline became very interested in my ability and kept tabs on me for years, watching and waiting for something to happen.

"My first nightmare that I had all those years ago only began to be realized within the last few years." Angela removed a handkerchief from her purse and gently dabbed at her eyes. "Shortly after Claire was born, Kline officially approached me about a business proposal. He knew that I had controlling interests over the child and he wanted to take her. He knew what she would become, what her power would be, and he wanted to use it to help him complete the Miranda project. He said that he had waited for a thousand years for her to come along.

"Naturally my first reaction was outrage. I couldn't afford for the world to know about Claire because of Nathan's impending future, but I wasn't about to let her be taken away for some experiment either."

"That's why you sent us after her mother," Noah mumbled to the floor. There was a dawning of understanding taking over him but it wasn't enough to lift his spirits knowing that he would never see his precious Claire Bear again.

"Yes. I already knew what would happen with the fire. It had to be done so that Claire could be hidden from him. And then… after the _incident_ with the Sullivan Brothers' carnival, she unwittingly exposed herself not only to the world but also to Kline. He immediately contacted me again. That time however, he was not nearly as patient.

"He explained to me that if we allowed the Miranda project to complete, we would have a weapon at our disposal more powerful than anything I could have ever imagined. We could sway the world under our control and bend the balances in favor of good. With Miranda we could accomplish more than the Company ever could have."

"It's always about the power with you isn't it," Noah blurted out as more of a statement than a question. She dabbed at her eyes again, smiling ruefully to hold back the tightness in her throat.

"Kline is a very powerful man, Noah. He made that quite clear when he also mentioned Peter's life as well as those of your family being in jeopardy if I didn't comply." Three pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Matt sighed and hunched his shoulders as he replaced his head between his knees. Mohinder turned his gaze back to the floor, scratching at several days worth of stubble on his chin.

None of them should have been surprised. They would never fully escape the thumbs of higher powers that willed their lives along for their own devices. It was almost a physical burden, the knowledge that with their abilities, also came responsibilities that made them frighteningly easy to manipulate.

"I conceded to him in an effort to protect us all. But it came with a heavy price. The department has been under his indirect guidance since the beginning. Claire and Sylar were given specific assignments to take down anyone that represented a threat to the Miranda project, and through their trials their relationship was sealed. The bond that they now share insures that Kline will have his way. Their abilities are essential to the project."

"Claire's dead," Noah whispered as he made an awkward choking sound like a repressed sob getting stuck in his throat.

"Yes, she is for now." Angela frowned heavily. "But that hasn't stopped the dreams. Sylar is going to find her and attempt to revive her."

_Save the cheerleader, save the world._ Matt perked up at the tiny thought that slipped through her defenses.

"Sylar went off the deep end. He's not coming back. Not to _save_ anyone anyways. He might come back to kill us all, but that's it." Suresh winced at Parkman's harsh tone.

"We're all very well aware of his deranged state, Matt. But… he would come back for _her_. I've made extensive endeavors into studying them together. Even if he doesn't realize it himself, he loves her." Mohinder clearly stated it as a fact and Noah grimaced at the idea.

"Yes, he does," Angela added with a thin lipped pensive expression. No one really liked the idea of them being together or would really ever get used to it after everything they had been through at the psychopath's hands.

"In the future I dreamt about last night, he comes for her and Kline captures them both. He forces me to give him the formula-"

"The formula was destroyed," Matt muttered darkly.

"We keep copies of everything dear." They all scowled at her for that revelation. "As I was saying, I give him the formula. He takes their abilities as well as the catalyst."

"And creates this Miranda _thing," _Noah finished the thought.

"Yes. I've made a lot of mistakes, but it's not to late to repair this one before the _real_ damage is done."

"We have to prevent Sylar from reviving Claire?" Mohinder asked edgily. The only person to have ever successfully killed the man was currently dead, and the few times they had tried to take him down it had taken the full force of everyone in union. Even that wasn't enough though. Sylar was the strongest of them all then and now he had grown even more powerful. Nothing was going to stop to him from what he really wanted.

"We're all going to die aren't we?" Matt asked gloomily.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "But the fate of the world in is our hands. If Miranda is allowed to exist then it won't only be our own blood that gets spilled." Everyone sunk their heads under the dark thoughts rolling over them.

"I guess it's a good thing we have a plan then," Peter piped up with a sideways grin. The two groups looked at one another torn between happiness and contempt.

"Sylar!" Noah shouted, raising his gun.

"Not this again," Matt sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Noah," Angela glowered. Sylar remained steady in his morose position.

"Even if you hadn't told us everything you just did, I can't just let him walk out of here, Angela. He brutally murdered his partner. He slaughtered handfuls of agents. He set part of the God damn city on fire!"

"I didn't do those things. I killed the agents trying to get to Claire to save her, but the other things… I'm innocent of that and I can prove it." The aura around him was dark and unstable but no outward threat was emanated. The groups converged into one another until they were all standing in a circle in the cold hallway.

"Hold hands," he quietly directed. Everyone joined one another in contact and with Peter and Matt's assistance Sylar's memories were projected through them all. Visions of every event that had come to pass since the fiasco started flashed across their minds. They all saw the truth in his innocence of the crimes he had been condemned for. They all saw the truth behind the mimic and Kline and everything he had learned from the time line as well as his brief encounter with the future Miranda. Once the connection was over everyone stumbled backward from one another, shaking their heads to clear the fog.

"So what's the plan?" Noah asked, panting slightly.

"First, you're all going to spend the day with the people you love. It might be our last," Sylar punctuated each word with a direct look into the faces of the people around him.

* * *

Peter rushed through the door of his apartment and immediately swept a startled Emma into his arms, embracing her tightly and joining their mouths in a prolonged passionate kiss. Her head swam with the rush of his need for her contact and left her a little breathless. He released her back to the floor and but refused to relinquish his hold on her waist.

"What's gotten into you?" she half spoke, half signed with a wide smile of pleasant surprise plastered to her face.

"I missed you so much," he mumbled into her neck, nuzzling her softly and dotting delicate kisses along her skin. "I never want to spend another day without you by my side," he added in a rush, locking his eyes with hers in an intense gaze. Before she knew what was happening Peter had let go of her and dropped to his knee, pulling a little black velvet box from his jacket pocket. He revealed the shining ring that carefully rested inside and looked up to her shocked expression with nothing but contentment and love in his eyes.

"Emma Marie Coolidge," he started with a charming sideways smile, "I love you more than anyone I have ever loved before. I know our lives are crazy and that scares you sometimes, but you're the only thing that has kept me in one piece through all of this. I want to spend every day of the rest of our lives coming home to you. I want to stay up late playing music with you and laughing with you and I want to have a family with you. I want to wake up to you every morning and I want to spend every moment making you smile." Tears flooded her eyes and she brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Peter stood beside her again and removed the hands so that he could rest his on the sides of her face.

"Marry me, Emma," he beamed at her. She just nodded her head in the affirmative as more tears spilled over her cheeks. He took her hand and slid the twinkling rock onto her finger. They looked longingly into one another's doting eyes for a long moment before their lips collided again in heated passion.

* * *

"Matt, where have you been?" Janice asked with concern as he walked through the door. He didn't answer immediately, opting instead to scoop his son up into his arms and join his wife in a loving family embrace.

"The usual. Dealing with psycho drama and saving the world," he said in a hushed voice as he closed his eyes and held them even tighter, taking a deep breath of his wife's hair. "You know I love you, right?" he asked pulling back to look into her confused eyes.

"Of course," she responded smiling. Matt joined her in the kitchen to help prepare breakfast and enjoyed the moment of spending time with his family at the table. They talked, joked and laughed heartily when little Matty managed to squish eggs into his hair in the way that only a small child can.

After the meal was finished Matt helped Janice clean up the dishes, the gentle smile never leaving his face. He read his son his favorite story and kissed his delicate forehead when the boy laid down for his nap. Without warning or hesitation he swept his wife off of her feet and carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Mohinder?" Maya asked in surprise when she opened her door and found the man patiently waiting for her.

"Hello, Maya," he greeted softly with a hint of a smile. She paused, narrowing her eyes at him briefly but welcomed him inside of her apartment. He shuffled his feet uncertainly for a moment.

"I, um. I know that… we, I, haven't always been the best man to be around," he stuttered, over thinking his words. "And I'm sorry for that. But, for what it's worth, I do still care about you," he finished awkwardly. She turned her face to the floor before looking back at him with a timid smile.

"I haven't always been the best person either, Mohinder," she shyly admitted.

"This may sound strange, but I was wondering if you would mind spending the day with me?" They shared genuine smiles.

* * *

"Hello, Sandra," Noah greeted when his former wife opened the door.

"Noah," she nodded politely. "What's going on?" He stepped inside and took a seat at the dining table, looking around for Doug and silently giving thanks that he wasn't there. Sandra joined him at the table with two steaming cups of coffee. Bennett recounted all of the information he had about Claire to her, comforting her when she began to cry over the loss of their daughter, and cheering her up again when he carefully revealed that they had a plan to correct the situation.

Lyle bounded down the stairs and also took a seat at the table. The family happily reunited, if only for a while and spent the day as if the last few years of their lives had never happened.

* * *

"It was always you, Lydia," Edgar proclaimed with a sad smile as he placed a bouquet of the departed woman's favorite flowers over her grave. "I think you'd be proud of me. Working with the right people to save the world these days." A solitary tear rolled over his cheek and he wiped it away with another smile.

"Maybe I'll be seeing you again real soon," he added, trailing his fingers over the little wooden cross that was the only indicator she had ever been buried there.

* * *

Sylar entered the old watch shop, pausing briefly at the door for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He glanced over all of the clocks inhabiting the place, noting the perfect silence inside except for the steady rhythm of his own breathing. All of the time pieces were still frozen in place from the day their hands had randomly spun around and stopped.

He timidly approached the ruined section of the building that had rendered it to a condemned status after he and Claire had shared their first _real_ kiss there. He bent over to run his fingers over the burnt circle. A small half smile crept over his lips as the ashen fingers pressed against them, remembering the way she had felt there, the way she tasted. At least he had gotten a little time with her, however short it had been. For as long as eternity lasted for him, he would never let those memories slip away. Sylar would continue to dream about her, feel her in his arms and smell her in the air until the earth gave way to nothingness.

He feebly crumbled to the floor and placed himself in the exact position he had been when their lips had touched. He crawled over the surfaces of the spot with his hands, watching the event play out before him again and again.

Somewhere along the way the white string of yarn that had been dutifully resting around his neck found its way into his palms. The simple strand wouldn't last more than a hundred years, but he could watch her through it until it finally disintegrated in his fingers.

"And I thought fireworks were supposed to be a big deal," he chuckled to himself.


	22. Chapter 22

Here it is, the hopefully thrilling conclusion to Vicious Circles! There was an extra special cameo added to the end for a certain somebody as well... Enjoy!

"You just don't care what you look like, the world is falling around you.

You just have to see her. You just have to see her. You just have to see her.

And you know that she'll break you in two."

- Sometime Around Midnight by the Airborne Toxic Event

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One (Part Two)**

"I can't believe we're actually going through with this," Matt half sighed, half chuckled with the sentiment, a small fragile smile of uncertainty painting his expression.

"Nothing will ever be the same," Mohinder mumbled thoughtfully.

"Dying to save the world? Doesn't sound like the worst way to go out that I've ever heard of." Edgar grinned from ear to ear, sharpening his kukris against one another making little metallic twanging sounds after every strike.

"Who hasn't died around here at least once?" Everyone turned to look at a surprisingly light mooded Noah Bennett as he finished buckling the regulation footwear.

"You guys almost ready?" Peter sauntered into the department's locker room with a serious face but a light twinkle in his eyes and began changing into the black body armor. Another agent that they only recognized in passing, stepped in behind him. The stranger's face bubbled and melted into that of Sylar. All eyes were turned on him, both narrowed with suspicious questions and wide with some mysterious amount of respect for their new found leader. He didn't speak as he moved over to Noah's side and quietly assisted the man in securing the back straps of his chest piece.

"One more thing," Sylar mumbled, blurring from the room.

"Does it disturb anyone else that he can do that now?" Matt asked, staring at the door that was still partly ajar. He cried out a low "Ouch" when Edgar poked him in the side with the tip of a sword.

"Maybe a little," Mohinder nodded, shaking his head with a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Sylar reappeared in a moment and dropped a stack of boxes onto the bench that sat between two rows of lockers.

"Our files?" Noah asked eyeing the boxes with a quirked brow.

"All of them," Sylar nodded. "You can take them with you, or we can destroy them."

"What about the hard drives and backups?"

"Mysteriously gone missing along with the core server." Noah and Sylar shared a smirk.

"Ah," Matt groaned as he stood up from the bench and stretched into the protective suit. "These really do chafe," he complained.

"Oh, my." Mohinder bent his knees and wiggled uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should have put more effort into fixing this…"

"Damn," Peter and Edgar both added in unison as they stood. "How in the hell did you work in this?" Peter directed to Sylar.

"When the fighting starts you don't really have time to notice anymore," he said while attempting to hide a devious grin. He calmly ignored the questioning thoughts when he stripped off his shirt and several pairs of eyes turned to the length of white yarn that draped down his chest from his neck. His old locker popped open and he pulled on the long sleeve black shirt that he wore beneath the chest armor. Peter sensed his unspoken need to have a moment to himself and ushered the others out. They shared a nod with one another before the Petrelli disappeared beyond the door and started giving orders for the group to move into position.

Sylar drooped to the bench and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, tracing his fingers over the effigy of Claire indelibly etched into his arm in black ink. The department's alarms flared to life, bleating an emergency broadcast for all agents to report for briefing. With a sigh he dropped the sleeve of his shirt back into place and tossed his head back with a low laugh to himself.

* * *

Sylar landed at the designated location for the group to unite at. Kline Enterprises' headquarters towered over them in gloriously shining columns of steel and glass. This would be the site of their last stand for all that was good and right in the world. The last rays of hopeful sunshine were retreating below the horizon as spot lights around the building burst into action.

He looked around himself to the others, all preparing for what would come, eagerly anticipating their final battle. Noah and Lauren traded smiles as they inspected and loaded their weaponry in tandem. Matt wandered around in pacing circles with his cell phone glued to his ear as he talked with his wife on the other end, grinning openly into the receiver. Peter was helping Emma with a few stray buckles over the black armor that he had procured for her and swept the woman into his arms for a kiss of unrestrained passion. Mohinder pulled out his phone and tapped a number into it from a slip of paper that he safely tucked into a pocket and patted protectively. His eyes lit up when a woman answered.

"Tracey!" Noah greeted as a tall, lithe blonde strolled up to them.

"Noah," she nodded with a smile.

"Thanks for coming to help us out."

"Not a problem. I never liked this guy anyway. Besides, I couldn't let the boys have _all_ the fun." The pleasantries were stifled as Edgar zoomed out of nowhere and retrieved Tracey. Unabashed, he dipped her over his arm and smashed their lips together. She came up startled and sputtering for air, but unable to repress a grin as he smiled down on her, and pulled the speedster in for another kiss. He exhaled a breath of frosty air and shivered.

"Mom?" Peter asked in surprise as Angela stepped out of a limo and strolled up to join the fray.

"Peter," she said reaching him and pecking his cheek. "Emma," she smiled, taking note of the ring on the woman's finger and also gave her a peck.

"What are you doing here, Mom?"

"I may not have offensive abilities like you my dear," Angela fished in her purse for a moment, "but I'm a Petrelli. And we know how to take care of business." She pulled a shockingly large hand gun from her bag and proceeded to check the clip, letting a small mischievous smile slip over her son's surprise.

Everyone seemed to notice Sylar's presence at the same time and gathered around him.

"The call went out a few minutes ago. The department will be here soon," he said solemnly.

"They'll all be gunning for you. We won't be able to stop them." Noah pitched.

"You don't have to stop them. Just do what you can to hold them off until I come back."

"You're public enemy number one again. They'll be sending everything they've got," Matt piped up.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," he smirked.

"So… What should we do when this is all over?" Peter crossed his arms and grinned, adding a comforting amount of levity to the situation at hand.

"You ever seen London at night before, love?" Edgar addressed Tracey, pulling her into him by the waist.

"I think Maya might be forgiving me," Mohinder mumbled over a shy smile, holding his phone to his heart.

"Vacation. A nice, long, vacation," Noah sighed.

"I'm going to be a father. Again," a wide shining smile crossed over Matt's thoughtful face. Everyone but Sylar spread their congratulations and took turns patting him on the back.

"We're getting married!" Peter exclaimed, beaming at Emma. Again, everyone but the dark man cheered for the happy couple. And then the cavalry arrived.

"Time to get to work," Sylar muttered through a tight lipped frown. As he began to stalk off towards the building, Noah stopped him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. Sylar turned to look at the man with a furrowed brow. They didn't speak. They traded a long steady gaze before Noah broke the contact with a light patting motion on his arm. Silent nods were exchanged and he turned back to his mission, taking flight to the top of the tower.

A helicopter flew overhead, flashing a blinding spot light over the group. Armored vehicles pulled into the lot, pouring agents out around them, wielding various weaponry and poised to strike. More enforcements were arriving in a steady stream, surrounding them all.

"Not real big on fair fights are they?" Edgar grumbled, noting carefully how the small group were facing an army of hundreds of field operatives, both normal and 'special' alike.

"Yeah. They really should have brought more," Peter chimed with a spreading grin.

* * *

Sylar dropped down on the roof top of Kline Enterprises and scanned the area. He walked around the entrance hub that connected to the top floor and between a row of air units and vent shafts. The sight that greeted him on the other side chilled him to the bone.

Luke was hunched over a wood chipping machine, dragging something to its mouth that landed against the sheet of metal with a dull thud. A pair of white tennis shoes flopped beneath his arms. He turned to face Sylar with a distraught look on his face, and moved in front of the device, blocking his view.

"Luke…" Sylar started to voice, taking a step forward.

"Don't come any closer." His heart thundered relentlessly against his chest, threatening to break through knowing what he had just stumbled onto.

"Don't do this."

"I don't have a choice! He's _never_ going to stop! _You're_ never going to stop! It's the only way!" he screamed, voice cracking with stress.

"Luke," he started again, a trace of menace in his tone as he took another bold step forward.

"What do ya think, Sy? Can you make it here and save her before I can shove her body through this?" He stepped aside, revealing Claire's lifeless form, inches from a series of grinding mechanical teeth. "From this height, with this wind speed, she'd be spread over the next twenty miles." A sick twisted sneer spread over his face. "I know you're good. But I don't think even _you're_ good enough to fix that." He laughed manically before turning back to her body and running a finger down Claire's cold ash colored face and twirling it around a strand of hair hanging limply over her shoulder.

"Bit of poetic justice, isn't it? Killing her for good on Kline's own turf like this?" Another bout of laughter morphed into a harsh cough. Luke lifted his hand to cover his mouth and hacked up a muddy clump of dirt with a grimace. "Great. You know I'm still getting rid of all the damn sand you pushed through me. Asshole," he glared.

A strand of hair drifted on the breeze into the machine, catching on the whirling teeth and yanking the body a little closer to oblivion. The shredded tufts floated out the end and fluttered away. Sylar lurched forward and Luke gripped a leg, daring him to move any further before pitching Claire into the chipper completely.

The brothers eyed one another, twitching the fingers at their sides anxiously as they sized the other up. Sylar struck first, mentally pulling the boy away from the machine in an invisible choke hold. He responded by summoning a jet of flame in the dark man's direction. Sylar twisted his face in pain, blistered flesh knitting back together, but refused to relinquish his hold.

"We don't need to do this. With Claire gone, Kline is vulnerable. We can fight him together. We can end this." Luke looked thoughtful, contemplating the generous offer that would save them all a lot of suffering.

"How do you know that?" he hissed between gasps for air.

"Miranda. She showed me the future. She showed me how to beat him."

"Miranda's gone. She doesn't exist anymore!" he shouted, pain filling his eyes and quickly changing his mind against anything Sylar would have to say thereafter. He flicked his wrist and Claire's body fell deeper into the wood chipper. More of her hair flitted out of the receiving end. Sylar dropped Luke in favor of speeding over to the machine. He had barely gripped one of her ankles before his brother rushed him from behind and bumped them both against the metal.

Claire started to slide down the chute as they tumbled to the ground, wildly striking at one another. Sylar released himself from the fight long enough to gain a hold on the end of a shoe and yanked her towards him so that the body awkwardly bent at the spine, half in, half out. Luke shoved another fireball into his face and he groaned into the heat, charging a bolt of blue lightning into the boy's side and knocking him away. As his brother made to advance on him again, Sylar jutted his hands out defensively and sent a layer of frost over his skin, freezing the boy solidly in place.

He heaved a heavy sigh, oddly admiring the beauty of the dim light shining over the ice sculpture that was Luke. His attentions were quickly trained back on Claire though and he moved back to her, gently lifting her body from the shredding machine. Fingers traced over the bloody line running across her head as he knelt over her, allowing her lower body to rest on the roof top and holding her torso in his arms. He was glad her eyes were closed. He wasn't sure that he could bare looking into the glazed over blues.

Sylar shifted her weight so that he could hold her closer to him. Her head flopped onto his shoulder so that the heavy iron spike driven into the base of her skull was exposed. His fingers ran over the metal piece, wishing that he could remove it. He lightly lifted her face back to him, cupping her cheek and placing a kiss on her chilled forehead.

The ice restraining Luke began to crack while he rocked back and forth with Claire's body but he didn't hear it, being to lost in his own thoughts to register any other information. Luke shook his head to free the remaining frost sticking to his skin and hair. His shivering freed the rest of his body. Taking a sloshing step through the pool of water under his feet, he examined Sylar clutching Claire and burying his face into her now jagged locks.

With a low guttural growl he blurred over to them at top speed and swiftly toppled Sylar off the edge of the roof. He hauled Claire's body back into the mouth of the wood chipper, ready to shove her through when a hand rested on his back.

Sylar reappeared, flying back up from his descent in time to see Miranda positioned behind Luke. A bright light flashed under her hand and the boy evaporated into a cloud of dust that she held within a closed fist. Her face fell over the fist, ticking from side to side for a moment before she opened it again revealing a live raven flapping its wings nervously.

"Miranda? What did you do? You're not supposed to be here anymore!"

"The future changes with every decision we make. It's like rain on a lake, rippling through time." She quirked an eyebrow and trailed her eyes over the sky above her. The black bird cawed noisily and fluttered away. "He comes back," she whispered when Sylar started to freak out a bit at the sight of the bird, that used to be his brother, flying away.

"Bravo!" Hands clapped appreciatively as Kline stepped into view from the shaded side of the ventilation shafts.

* * *

Angela took a few pot shots at the incoming wave of agents and quickly ducked behind the wall of ice that Tracey had formed to shield her. She swept a fallen lock of hair out of her eyes and took a breath, willing her heart to slow. Emma strummed a chaotic tune from her cello beside her, also having been instructed to stay behind the ice shield. Her warm breath collided with the chilled air in front her leaving puffs of fog. She worked her calloused fingers over the wooden neck concentrating on driving the enemy away, helping to control the numbers that were approaching the group so that they would not become overwhelmed to quickly.

Mohinder dropped to his knees, wincing in pain and fumbling to readjust the ear muffs that Peter had provided for everyone so they would not be overly effected by the siren's song. Once the world was blissfully muffled around him again he lunged back into action, gripping two operatives and cracking their heads together, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground before moving to the next with a strength enhanced fist. Tracey blew out another dense cloud of frosty fog obscuring the vision of the ranged attackers with sniper rifles. She phased into her water form when a stream of bullets zipped by her, one piercing her arm but leaving her unharmed as it collided with the ice wall behind.

Peter cracked long arches of lightning through the crowd, sending a group of agents to their backs, seizing. Matt took control of one of the hostiles and forced them to turn on their comrades, hailing them with rapid gun fire. Edgar was a whirling storm of flashing steel as he danced around the enemy, deflecting attacks and slicing into their armor to expose them to more of Peter's shocks.

Noah loyally covered Lauren's back as she dropped to reload. They worked together in unison when she popped to her feet, pressing their backs together to cover all sides. Wave after wave of reinforcements washed over them, hurling attacks of fire and brass projectiles. Edgar jumped to put a particularly nasty operative out of commission when the woman pulled the air around her into a tornadic vortex that knocked Peter and Matt from their feet and swept them into the violently spinning winds.

The ice wall crumbled in the center when a small rocket propelled shell crashed into it. Angela rushed to shove Emma out of the way when the ticking red lights and low beeping sound warned her that the explosive device was armed and ready to blow. Emma's bow slipped from her hands and skidded over the pavement when the two woman toppled over. She rushed to retrieve it and gathered her instrument into her hands again, playing to attack now that she was exposed to the onslaught. A harsh note ripped from the strings flashed a bright red streak in front of her that sliced into the man charging in their direction.

Tazer prongs grappled onto Mohinder's chest armor and sizzled with volts meant to put him down. He carefully dislodged the metal claws and threw them to the ground, leaping at the agent foolish enough to try it when his flesh was protected from such a thing. Tracey flooded the ground with a stream of water for Peter to electrify. Agents cried out in pain while others ran from the hazard.

* * *

The air rippled around Miranda, a devastating power surge growing in her body as she stared ferociously at Kline. Glass windows shattered under the climbing pressure, steel girders screeching as they began to bend, the very foundations of the building trembling before her rage.

"Miranda, my dear, come to me," Kline called with outstretched arms, ignorantly expecting some form of warm embrace from the girl. Tiles along the roof were being pulled up and sucked towards her as they were disintegrated into dust. Sylar shielded his eyes from the stinging winds picking up around him. Claire's body started to slide over the floor in the direction of the gravitational flux.

"Miranda," Sylar strained to remain calm, to keep his tone even and comforting. He had seen what was about to happen before and knew she had to be stopped. He moved into her line of sight, blocking the view of Kline and placed his hands on her face, ignoring the sizzling of his own skin under the heat of the energy coursing through her. "Remember the butterflies, Miranda?" Her feral eyes latched onto his, locking him place so that he couldn't move even if he wanted to. The telekinetic winds whipped their hair about. A sheet of gleaming steel was ripped away from the side of an air conditioning unit and was pulverized into ash once it entered her air space.

He couldn't breathe as the oxygen was being sucked away. His flesh blistered and seared away from bone, struggling to regenerate against the intensity. Claire's body began to burn and slipped even closer.

"Remember the butterflies, Miranda. Remember what you told me? What you showed me?" He winced with the agonizing pain and pulled her hands into his own, holding them to his chest so that she could feel his heart beat with her own. "You have to stop this. I know it's hard. I understand. But you can control it. You can save us, Miranda. This is my fight. You can save us all by letting _me_ finish it."

"Change the variables," she whispered. Sylar pressed his forehead to hers, keeping her gaze.

"Change the variables," he repeated. Miranda closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The storm slowly fizzled out and the energies inside of her subsided. He let out a long, low sigh of relief.

"I knew you were special, my dear," Kline chimed with awe, a sickly smile spreading from ear to ear, a wicked glint in his eyes. And then he turned his gaze to Claire's body. Something akin to grief filled the strangely familiar blue eyes.

"It's amazing how much she looks my Aurelia. All of my girls did. Claire is the very end of my line, much like you are the last of _his_." He looked at Sylar with poorly disguised disgust. Kline waved a hand at him and mentally pushed him a few feet away, moving to Claire's side. He opened up his arm and started to allow the ancient blood to fall over her broken head, but Sylar moved into the way, knocking him back before he could blink.

"We can revive her, bring her back," Kline said with a little surprise, searching the hardened dark eyes for an explanation to his reluctance as he stationed himself protectively between him and Claire and Miranda.

"I'm not going to allow you to do that," he said in a low even tone to cover his own pain.

"You mean to tell me, that you're ready to face eternity without her? To move through your pathetic and pointless life without your…" he nearly choked on the word, "mate?"

"I'm pretty sure a nice heavy railroad spike will take care of that for me."

Kline laughed deviously. "I remember the very moment I knew it would be you. I was watching the security footage from your little escapade at the Stanton. How you pushed yourself onto her, proposing to her in your own warped way. How you promised that one day she would love you." Sylar swallowed his nerves over the tightening of his throat. "And she responded by telling you that she would spend the rest of her life finding a way to kill you. That's when I knew!" He laughed again, the dark man failing to see what was so amusing.

"No woman ever promises to spend forever chasing and trying to kill a man that she has no passion for. Yes, that's when I knew that it would always be you." He wiped a tear away from his grinning cheek. Kline made to approach her body again and Sylar shifted to mirror the movements.

The blonde man's nostrils flared with frustration. "You're not _absolutely_ necessary for Miranda to be created. We have laboratories for that kind of thing. So I have no qualms with crushing you if need be, but I will have Claire back!"

"No." Sylar's flat response clearly irritated the ancient. Bright licking flames were ignited in his hands and thrown at the dark man. He didn't appear to react immediately. Instead Sylar kept his ground, choosing to watch Kline attack studiously and connect the dots as to what made him tick.

_You'll need this to defeat him when the blood stops flowing._

Attack after attack assaulted him, warping him, tearing him, breaking him, but he refused to lose his concentration. Finally, as Kline rushed in to deliver a super charged blow, an iron fist caught his and the two men's eyes locked onto one another.

"I have your power now," Sylar snarled in a voice so low that only his adversary could hear it. Upon seeing the ancient's eyes widen in a mixture of cynicism and shock he added, "I don't have to kill to gain abilities. That's just something I do for fun."

He pressed a hand lightly against Kline's chest and watched as he sailed to a tumbling halt on the other end of the roof. Sylar flexed his arms and clenched his fists with closed eyes, feeling the rush of a raw and primal power flowing through his veins.

* * *

Peter ran to shield Emma from the rain of shattered glass with his own body. He winced in pain as several shards buried into his back and she promptly helped him to remove them. Angela had crawled over to the building's entrance and slouched against the insert wall for protection, nursing a bullet wound to the shoulder. Matt cried out in pain when a tazer grappled to his neck and dropped him to the pavement, releasing multiple agents that had been under his control.

"You're really starting to piss me off," Tracey growled. The temperature began to drop rapidly around them and Edgar rushed to evade the coming cold snap. Tendrils of ice crept over the pavement, slowly at first and then flash freezing dozens in place.

Petrelli blurred over to Mohinder, shoving the man out of the way before a hail of gun fire could cut him down. He mentally lifted one of the armored vehicles and swept it over the lot like an impromptu wrecking ball, clobbering every field operative in its path.

"We're running out of ammo!" Noah shouted. They're forces were quickly falling apart under the constant pressure of the department's assaults.

* * *

Sylar and Kline both flew at one another, colliding in mid-air and popping out of space and time, reappearing in a foreign city. They tumbled down a crowded street, slashing at one another and causing oncoming traffic to swerve around them with bleating angry horn honks. People were screaming and running away in panic from jets of flame and ice. Kline threw his shoulder into a double decked bus when it was unable to screech to a stop before hitting him. The metal of the heavy passenger vehicle shuddered down its length, rippling at the end with a loud grinding noise. He picked up the wreckage and heaved it at Sylar sending him crashing through a store front.

He groaned in pain as his cracked and shattered bones moved back into place, the torn and seared flesh sewing itself back together over the grotesque injuries. Kline was upon him again in no time, charging a pulse of energy that knocked Sylar back out of space.

The two men popped back into existence, continuing their battle through a dense jungle. Thick trees swayed and splintered around them with each rocking blow. Sylar willed a bunching of green vines hanging out of the canopy above to drop down on Kline and tangle themselves around his neck, lifting him from his feet. He choked for air and clawed at the offensive botanical life for a moment before ripping them away. A quick clap of his hands sent Sylar plowing through another row of trees. They grunted and groaned to the edge of a rocky cliff face overhanging a misty waterfall and rolled over to plummet into the churning waters below.

Sylar's ears popped in protest when they jumped to a low, dry desert terrain. They rolled over one another down a long dune, sending fine sands flying in every direction. Thin shards of glass spidered out from the fight under the intense heat being generated between white hot bolts of radiation and electrical pulses.

With one final jump the adversaries landed with a harsh thud in the middle of a shadowy harbor. Sylar ripped a set of heavy chains from the side of a large ship and wrapped them around Kline with restraining force. He popped them into a storage warehouse and shoved the blonde man into a durable metal locker, wrapping more of the chains around the outside and welding them into place. The outsides of the locker dimpled around the fists pounding it from the inside.

He gripped the container and jumped it into the ocean, allowing it to sink downwards under the crushing depths. Not even Kline would be able to escape that. The ancient would continue to live in the darkness, unable to breathe or move, unable to ever be found within the hostile environment of the abyssal ridge. Unable to even scream.

Sylar reappeared on the damaged roof top of Kline Enterprises, soaking wet, his body armor burnt and torn. He gave himself a moment to lay still, panting and dazedly staring up at the stars. Miranda's pale face hovered over his with a comically confused expression.

"It's done," he sputtered. She quietly nodded and danced her way back to Claire's body. He watched as the girl tilted her head over the body, studying it while her fingers twitched in the air at her sides.

He groaned and rolled over so that he could return to his feet. Sylar crossed the distance to Claire and pulled her into his lap. The spike slid from her skull with a nauseating sticky, sloshing sound. He waited expectantly for her to come back, but it didn't happen. A long slash opened over his arm and the blood dripped over the wound in her forehead, being mixed into it by his stained fingers. Nothing seemed to change.

Claire's limp head flopped onto his chest as he pulled her into him, tangling his fingers in her hair and raggedly breathing in a desperate attempt to control the retching of his stomach. After a few minutes had passed, the body his in grasp gave a weak sigh and a sudden intense gasping for air. Her hands clutched at him, hanging on for dear life and a delicate tear of relief rolled down his cheek.

"What did I tell you about not leaving me again," he whispered into her ear, holding her chin up so that they're eyes could meet.

An eerie giggle drew their attention to Miranda, pointing her finger, jabbing at the air in a random pattern and drawing her hands together with another flash of light. A butterfly like the one Sylar had seen in the desert flapped its wings in the palm of her hand before taking flight. Sylar assisted a shaky Claire to her feet and refused to let go of her in case she lost her balance or drifted away from him like a wonderful dream upon waking.

"I'll need that back now," Miranda murmured, watching something over her head. She placed a pale hand on his chest and he winced, feeling like a piece of his soul was being ripped out. There was a vacant space where the ability he had taken from Kline had been. "This is to much for anyone to wield," she whispered, examining the flicker of light in her palm before closing her fist around it, opening it again to drop a bit of ash into the wind.

"The hunger," she turned her feral eyes back to Sylar, turning over his consciousness in her own mind. "I'll cure that for you June." He was to distracted by Claire's arms snaking their way around his waist to worry about the girl's cryptic messages. "Would you like a taste of the answers?" Miranda darted her eyes between the two of them, a mischievous smile dawning over her lips. Neither had time to respond before two streams of a bright red electrical surge hit them both.

Sylar inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and riding the high of the power coursing through his veins. Dark energy twisted down his body, hardening his vascular system and pooling in his eyes. When he opened his eyes again something similar was happening to Claire. She was heavily breathing, almost erotically, while a bright light seeped through her, glowing under her skin. She opened her eyes to look at him and the blue in them had faded to a milky white.

The air around them seemed to have been broken down into its individual molecules. Elemental atoms danced all around them, glimmering with the primal energies of creation and shining like countless points of light sharing a void of darkness. Everything in nature, time and space, rippled in an endless rhythmic balance. Their eyes all watched in awe at the powers of the universe surrounding them. Miranda twirled herself about in a dance while Sylar and Claire's eyes locked onto one another together.

They're hands rested in front of them, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the other's presence as if they were. Little sparks of blue electricity and shafts of white light covered the vacant space.

_Can you feel it?_

_Yes._

Sylar leaned down, tangling his fingers into her disheveled hair and pulling her closer so that their mouths could collide. They're lips moved together in perfect tandem without thought and the watch on his wrist spun its hands randomly before freezing in place. Claire's hands ran over the expanse of his back and to his stomach and chest, craving more contact, elating in the feeling. Hazy images drifted between their minds, memories, dreams, emotions, all blending together in an ecstatic rush of thrumming heart beats and warming blood.

Somewhere between Sylar's lips aggressively trailing down her neck and Claire's thighs tightening around his waist, the area around them had erupted in flames. He couldn't remember when they had landed on the floor or how exactly his hands had found their way under her dirt stained shirt to paw at the soft skin hidden there. Up was down, inside was out, dark became light, and wrong felt right. All that mattered was the feeling.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Peter's strained voice floated up to them from the commotion below.

_Peter._

_Damn it._

"We should get out of here," a sing song tone echoed. Sylar groaned and moved to his feet again, extending a hand to pull Claire up with him. They watched as Miranda waved her hand, breaking molecular bonds in the space before them, reversing polarities and reforming ion structures so that sheets of steel the tower was made from flew apart and came back together in a spiral staircase down to the ground. She danced and spun her way down while Sylar and Claire followed behind with their hands laced.

Tracey had formed another ice wall to shield them while their forces regrouped. Noah worked to patch Angela's wound at least well enough to get the bleeding stopped. Lauren banged her head against the ice when the last clip she checked was also empty. Matt was semi unconscious, slouched against a very tired and beaten looking Edgar. A long graze ran over the side of the speedster's face and scorch marks covered his suit, extending to his shaking hands.

Mohinder was hanging from the neck of a rather large agent whose skin hardened into a shining metal shell. He cried out, flailing his hand in pain when a punch to the man's face only succeeded in creating a cloud clanging noise and splitting his knuckles. The man groped around for the back of Suresh's chest armor, gripped one of the hanging straps and swung him over, slamming him into the pavement.

Emma's cello had been broken during the coarse of the battle and she now stood carefully behind Tracey with her eyes shut tight, humming a distracting tune. Tracey had layered frost over her skin for protective armor and primarily focused on keeping the siren in one piece but couldn't resist the urge to snake a watery tendril down an approaching agent's throat, effectively drowning her.

Peter diligently kept up the fight. He cracked long arches of lightning over the crowd and alternated between sweeping them back with telekinesis to control their numbers and burning them out with tactically placed heat pulses.

Petrelli was happily surprised when Sylar appeared behind him, blowing back another group of the encroaching hostiles. Claire found her way into his arms for a warm hug.

_Time to follow the plan._

Peter nodded in understanding. He placed a kiss on Claire's forehead, promising that he would see her later and slapped the dark man on the back in a brotherly fashion. He headed back to the ice barrier with the group, scooped Emma up in his arms and took flight away from the scene. Noah, Lauren and Angela stealthed away into the night to the get away car that was waiting for them. Mohinder roused Matt from his stupor and two held onto each other's shoulders for support.

_You don't see us anymore. You're all going to forget that we were ever here._

They seemed to vanish from sight instantly. Tracey and Edgar held hands for a moment before she morphed into a stream of water and washed away, he gave a salute to Sylar and blurred off into the distance.

As a hail of bullets and abilities descended on the stragglers, time froze the situation in place. The future version of Hiro Nakamura, dressed in black with a tightly bound pony tail, strolled into view, politely bowing before Claire and greeting Sylar with a curt nod, referring to him as the 'brain man'. Miranda excitedly clapped for the Japanese time traveler, exclaiming that her hero had finally come for her.

"I've been looking for you for a very long time," the slightest trace of a smile lit the corners of his mouth. "We must go little butterfly. There is a war to fight and we could use your assistance if you are willing." He quietly unsheathed the Kensei's katana that he had bestowed to her and presented the weapon for her acceptance. Miranda danced her way over to him, commanding the blade to her hands with a graceful flourish. "We'll take care of her," Hiro solemnly promised, eyes meeting both of them in assurance.

"Wait!" Claire called after her when Hiro's hand settled on the girl's shoulder, ready to teleport away. "Please, tell us who you are." The question burned in their ears. They all knew, but the need to hear it be spoken aloud was overwhelming.

Miranda rolled her eyes coyly. "Let's just say that… I've got shades of gray in me." She and Sylar shared a hauntingly familiar smirk. With a blink, Miranda and Hiro were gone.

Taking advantage of the time before the department's attack would resume, Sylar pulled Claire into him, smothering her lips with a deep hungry kiss. He pulled a length of dark blue yarn from an armored pocket and looped the string around her neck.

_Is that?_

_Yes._

The metaphor of the action was not lost on her.

"I lo-" she started to say, but an unsteady finger rushed to hush her before the words could be spoken aloud. Claire turned a confused gaze into his eyes. Sylar reflexively held a hand out beside him to keep the agents' attacks at bay once time started flowing again. His eyes flickered to the wall of bullets hovering before them, more being added it to each second. A thought crossed his mind and she picked up on it.

"No," she whispered, gripping his face so that he have to look at her again. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Changing the variables."

"You don't have to do this way. There has to be another way. Please… We'll find it! Just don't do this!" Tears flowed from her pleading eyes, rolling down her flushed cheeks. Sylar felt a knot tie in his stomach, but he couldn't give in now. Not if he wanted to save her. To save _them_… _all. _

"I thought I lost you before. I can't let that happen again. It's a vicious circle, Claire, and it has to be broken," he said in a low, tight voice as his thumb traced the trail of tears, wiping them away.

_The only way to save the past and protect the future is for me to never exist at all._

Sylar knew that he would have to do the unforgivable. Something so devastating that she would never be able to look at him that way again, as though the world were ending around them and he was the last thing she ever wanted to see. He would have to cut his own heart out to truly defeat the dragon and save the woman he loved.

"Gabriel, please," she implored him, sobbing uncontrollably. He leaned down and placed one last kiss on her lips, knowing that it may be the last time he would ever be able to do so, and cherished the sweet scent so much like sunshine on a warm summer afternoon.

"I _don't_ love you!" she screamed at him when he turned from her.

_Shudder. Lie. _He winced at the pain that formed in his chest like an invisible hand giving his heart a healthy squeeze.

And then the cloud of brass that he had stayed, was released, unleashed against their owners. Claire's shrieks echoed in his ears as the bodies hit the ground, piling over themselves. Sylar steeled himself against the onset of emotion, refusing to relent to the horror of the atrocity that he had committed. He slaughtered them all.

* * *

The D.S.R.E.C. felt so cold and empty as Claire stalked through its halls the next week. All the faces she had grown used to seeing there were now absent. Peter, Matt, Mohinder… They had all vanished, unable to contact and laying low while they waited for the winds of change to sweep them into action again or at least for the metaphorical shoe to drop. Even her father had taken off to some remote island citing the need for a vacation.

She sighed to herself, feeling a ghost ache over her chest as she nudged an office door open with the stack of boxes in her hands. Renee looked up from the paperwork on his desk with a small amount of surprise. Claire dumped the boxes onto the corner of his desk with an agitated huff and a scowl on her face.

"I want you to take it all. Everything of _him_ before the carnival."

The Haitian carefully eyed the boxes she had deposited and then studied her eyes for a moment with apprehension.

"That's a lot to lose, Claire. Are you sure that that is what you really want?"

"Everything," she growled with iron conviction.

Claire removed a loaded syringe from the pocket of her suit jacket and popped the cap on it. After all the events that happened to her over the course of the last month she absolutely detested anything to do with needles, but she was going to make sure that the Haitian's touch stuck this time.

* * *

"Ms. Bennett?" She moaned groggily, fighting the waking world. She had plenty of time before she had to be ready for class.

"Um, Ms. Bennett…" the annoying voice prodded her again. Claire opened her eyes, startled to find herself slumped over a desk in some kind of office rather than being in the comfort of her own bed. Where was she? And who in the hell was this strange woman in the pant suit trying to get her attention from the door?

"You're new partner is here, Ms. Bennett. He requested that you meet him in the main lobby?"

"Partner?" The last thing she remembered was something about her room mate Gretchen missing a back pack… Reluctantly but following her curious nature, Claire allowed the woman to lead her into a lobby area where she was left to stand before a bank of elevators. The lift directly in front of her dinged, the little white light at the top of the entrance flashing, and then revealing a tall young man in an impressive dress suit, fiddling with a black tie. He had slightly shaggy brown hair and deeply appraising dark eyes.

"Hello, Robot," he grinned at her from ear to ear.

"Hello, Alien," she happily responded feeling a balloon of butterflies inflate in her stomach.

_West._

_

* * *

_

Claire and West chatted animatedly about everything that had happened since they had last seen one another. They had just turned the corner around a busy intersection on their way to a Thai restaurant when a bike messenger skidded to a halt in front of her. He quickly released a small brown box from the back of his bicycle and forked it over to her.

"What's this?" she asked him, clearly surprised.

"I dunno, lady. Some guy just gave me a hundred bucks to drop it off." The messenger shrugged his shoulders and rode away.

"Weird," West mumbled, waiting for her to open the box.

Claire ripped the cardboard seam open and pulled out a dainty silver cell phone. Just as she held the phone up for her new partner to see, it started to ring. She started at the sound and timidly flipped it open, holding it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Claire," a low velvety voice responded, sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

"Sylar?" West made to grab for the phone but she held her hand out for him to stop and turned away, plugging her other ear so that she could clearly hear what her nemesis had to say.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things, Claire. But that's not important right now."

"I'll keep trying to kill you. For the rest of my life," she hissed into the receiver.

A rumbling chuckle answered her promising threat. "Everybody needs a hobby, Claire." The line disconnected, leaving her confused, angry and just a little panic stricken.

Sylar watched from the roof top of a building across the street as a kid he only vaguely recognized wrapped his arm around Claire and walked her down the street. He snapped the cell phone in his hand shut. "I love you too, Claire," he muttered to himself, breaking into a devious laugh with an evil glint in his eye.

_I'm back…_

_

* * *

_

If credits were rolling right now we would so be listening to Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle". Leave me some review love (or even flames if absolutely necessary).


	23. Chapter 23

**One year later…**

"Security breach, level five. All personnel are ordered to evacuate immediately. Security breach, level five. All personnel are ordered to evacuate immediately." The robotic female voice of the alarm system repeatedly blared the emergency message over the intercom system. Flashing yellow lights danced around the haze of smoke and dust from the wreckage of what used to be the highest security sector of the department's prison ward.

Claire opened her eyes and looked into the lifeless face of the woman doctor that had been treating her. She hadn't even bothered to learn her name, and now her limp body was sprawled across the floor next to her. As she pulled herself to an unsteady sitting position, Claire could see more bodies strewn about in the rubble. Chunks of concrete walls and snarled hunks of steel littered the ground around her. Electrical sparks showered her from one of the loosely hanging lights overhead.

When the ringing in her ears started to subside she could hear yelling and a few sparse gun shots. The inmates that had lived through the destruction were escaping. A guard was running towards her with his weapon drawn but he stopped short and fell forward as a long slash severed his throat. Blood quickly pooled under the body and flowed in her direction. Claire wanted to move away from the offensive red liquid but she was still locked down in a daze. Her stomach jolted with a wave of nausea.

She could feel him approaching. Of course she had believed him when he said that he would come for her, but she never expected this. How could life go so wrong in only a few weeks? Scanning through the cloud of her own mental fog and the obstructed vision of events unfolding around her, she thought she could see the outlines of his form. The broken chains leading from the manacles around her wrists clinked as she tried to stand and face him.

_Sylar._


End file.
